


Charlotte and Alex

by NickelModelTales



Category: Original Work
Genre: Aliases, Assassins & Hitmen, Brainwashing, Dark Web, F/M, Falling In Love, High School, Hypnotism, Japan, Kidnapping, Porn With Plot, Revenge, Romance, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:42:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24120778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NickelModelTales/pseuds/NickelModelTales
Summary: A beautiful young Japanese assassin is hypnotized against her will by another ruthless killer.  Then, without remembering her instructions, she is sent on the most dangerous mission of her life.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	1. The Bounty on Saburo Goromaru

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MilkGrenade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MilkGrenade/gifts).



> Two notes...
> 
> A reader coaxed me into writing a custom story, about assassins and secret agents, all set in Japan. Their enthusiasm was so infectious, I had to do it.
> 
> And to my regular readers: The COVID-19 pandemic has turned my regular lifestyle upside down. While I am not sick, I am working two jobs for one paycheck and now have very little spare writing time. I will continue crafting stories, but please understand that I won’t be able to post as frequently as I’d like. Thanks for your understanding, and stay safe! -NickelModelTales

**_Yokohama, Japan_ **

**_May, 2001_ **

As quietly as she could, Chiaki Takahashi pulled the front door shut behind her. The _genkan_ (the foyer where outside shoes are removed) of her parent’s home was neat and sparse. Chiaki strained her ears and detected Honoka, her mother, in the kitchen. It sounded like she was preparing dinner.

The eighteen-year-old teenager let out a cautious sigh of relief. She carefully set her backpack on the inside of the house, then stooped to unlace her black boots. If she was lucky, she could change into her indoor slippers and sneak upstairs before Honoka knew she was home. Chiaki’s fingers worked quickly.

As she pulled on the laces, Chiaki flipped her long, black hair over her right shoulder. That hair was nearly waist-length, and always tied back in a single ponytail. Chiaki knew it looked plain, but she didn’t care. It was nice to have one ordinary feature.

She was a stunning beauty, the rarest of cherry blossoms. Her eyes were soft green (very unusual for the Japanese), which complimented her porcelain-like skin and almost elven face. Even when she frowned, one could admire her thin red lips, which naturally ended in a light pucker. Chiaki’s neck was slender and graceful, and this helped guide your eyes down to her lean but endowed body.

Chiaki’s parents worried about their only daughter’s body. The girl had developed full, round breasts, curvy hips, a shapely rear, and long, graceful legs. All of this was accentuated by her tight school uniform. That tiny black skirt did nothing to hide Chiaki’s modesty. Men often stared at her. Boys were finding excuses to come over to the Takahashi’s house. Even the male neighbors paused to watch Chiaki when she left for the bus in the morning.

A pot in the kitchen clanged against the stove, and then soft footfalls approached. Chiaki winced. Had her mother detected her? The teen yanked herself from her second boot, jumped into her indoor slippers, and tried to make a stealthy dash for the staircases.

“Chiaki!”

The teenager skidded to a halt. Too late. Honoka, her mother, loomed in the doorway behind her.

“Eh…!” Chiaki drawled. “ ** _What?_** ”

“You’re home before six,” Honoka frowned, clearly suspicious. “Dr. Itō’s closed early… again?”

Now in her final year of upper-secondary school, Chiaki had taken a part-time evening job as a clerk in Dr. Itō’s veterinary office. She greeted the evening customers, guided them through rudimentary paperwork, and collected office payments. Brainless work. But it provided the teenager with the cover she needed for her real job.

“Dr. Itō had to go into Tokyo,” Chiaki lied. “So I’m off for the rest of today.”

Honoka’s eyes narrowed. “Uh-huh,” she grunted, clearly skeptical.

“Look, I need to find a better job, right?” said Chiaki, defensive. “ ** _You’re_** always saying that I should be doing something more interesting.”

“You should be applying to go to university next term!” her mother huffed.

It was hard for Chiaki not to roll her eyes in a show of teenage contempt. “I’ll go after next year,” she scowled. “But after graduation, I want a new, full-time job.” She hesitated. “So I’ll be on the Internet for a while, okay?”

Honoka sighed, sensing defeat. “Fine,” she said. “Go online and find a better job.”

Before her mother could reconsider, Chiaki turned and flew up the stairs.

“But only take an hour!” her mother shouted up after her. “And no computer-talking with boys!”

*****

Chiaki’s father, the venerable Elichi Takahashi, kept a small home office next to the master bedroom. The office primarily consisted of a small chair and a desk, with faded posters of old _Gojira_ movies on the walls. Mr. Takahashi had a thing for those old monster flicks.

On the desk was Mr. Takahashi’s home computer. This machine was seven years old, a yellowing, plastic box that dominated the tiny desk. A large monitor rested atop the computer. Chiaki flipped the power switches on, settled into the chair, and impatiently waited for the ancient machine to boot up.

It took three minutes before the computer was ready; another two minutes before Chiaki had plugged in the phone line and then coaxed the computer to connect to the Internet company. Internet-at-home was still a novelty in Japan, for which Chiaki was grateful. But online access meant the Takahashis’ phone line was unavailable while Chiaki was connected. So she had to work fast.

First, the teenager opened a few job search websites, careful to look for positions of which her mother would approve. Shopgirl, Pet Groomer, Saki Bar Hostess, Stewardess, _Uba_ Nanny. As usual, the pickings were slim.

But Chiaki was not really looking. After she was satisfied that she’d left a plausible trail in the browser history, she switched to a different app, the program her parents didn’t know that she’d installed on this old machine.

A black screen with ugly green lettering popped up. **_PASSCODE:_** the app demanded.

The teenager tapped in a complex sequence of numbers and letters. She hit ENTER.

 ** _ENCRYPTING CONNECTION_** , announced the app, and then the cursor just blinked.

Chiaki waited impatiently.

 ** _CONNECTION ESTABLISHED_** , the app declared. **_128 KBPS 32 BIT DES ENCRYPTION. WELCOME TO DAKUUEBU_NET._**

Typing carefully, Chiaki entered: **_connect newsgroups.nippon.alt.asashin.santai.groups_**.

 ** _RETRIEVING…_** the app asked. The cursor blinked some more. Then: **_FEED ESTABLISHED. 148 NEW POSTS SINCE LAST LOGIN._**

Now Chiaki leaned forward. She pulled up the list summary and began carefully searching.

It is common knowledge that if you want to find something on the Internet, you must use a search engine. This is how you connect to websites that **_want_** to be found by as many users a possible. You know, websites like online newspapers, shopping sites, usergroups, auctions, hobby boards, or even those awful personal webpages where people do nothing but display photos of their cat. That is the Internet you and I know.

But were you aware that there exists a **_second_** online world, beyond all those user-friendly sites? A whole universe of websites and usergroups are hidden far away from the search engines, and thus, you must to have an exclusive invitation to visit them. This is what is known as the Dark Web, the sliver of the Internet where truly evil people labor to share information.

Here you will find terrorists seeing information about how to make weapons. Or gun smugglers looking to unload their wares. Or child pornographers selling their vile films. Or hackers hawking identify information that was stolen from innocent people. Or human traffickers arranging passage for slaves. Or narcotic runners seeking distributors. Or even worse. Far, far, far worse.

Chiaki’s favorite Dark Web newsgroup was Asashin.Santai. She studied the current postings, absently chewing one lip. Then she tapped in a single command: **_refine:_** **_gentei 100-0000, kakaku 1000000-5000000_**.

The screen flickered, and the list shortened. Now the app said, **_17 NEW POSTS SINCE LAST LOGIN._**

 _Promising,_ Chiaki thought. _Time to get to work._

She keyed up the first posting. It said:

**_KOJI NAKAMURA_ ** **_. 23 yrs/87 kg/1.7 m. POSTED: 13-04-2001. CLIENT REQUESTS KOS, NO PROOF REQUIRED. BOUNTY REPOSTED: 17-03-2001, 02-04-2001, 13-04-2001. 5000000 y. CONTACT: IKATTEIRU_BOSU._ **

The teenager frowned. She’d never heard of this Koji Nakamura. But reading between the lines, she could tell that the man was bad news. For starters, he was young and strong. The client who wanted him dead had stated “KOS,” (meaning “Kill on Site”) yet the bounty had been upped twice. That meant Nakamura-san had survived at least two previous assassination attempts. His profile screamed Yakuza, or Japanese mafia.

Chiaki wasn’t stupid. She wasn’t about to tangle with a Yakuza killer. Pass.

The next post was even less tempting:

**_DAISUKE CHIBA. 47 yrs/128 kg/1.6 m. POSTED: 29-01-2001. CLIENT REQUESTS KOS, PROOF REQUIRED. TMHP. 7500000 y. CONTACT: ZURUI_INU._ **

Ugh! Chiaki physically recoiled. From reading the Dark Web news boards, she knew who Daisuke Chiba was: a heroin kingpin, with underworld connections out of Hong Kong and Vietnam. “TMHP” was code for “Target May Have Protection,” which in turn was code for “Target Has Many Scary Bodyguards Who Will Shoot At You.” No wonder the bounty was so high. Pass.

The next few posts were similarly discouraging. Either the target was too dangerous or obviously too well-protected. There was a revenge bounty for the Asakusa Chief of Police, for gods’ sakes! Taking **_that_** job might pay well, but how was an assassin to slip past all those police officers to do the deed? Or escape later? Chiaki curled her lip.

But the seventh post made the beautiful teenager hesitate:

**_SABURO GOROMARU. 47 yrs/102 kg/1.8 m. POSTED: 13-04-2001. CLIENT REQUESTS QK, PROOF REQUIRED. BOUNTY EXPIRES: 02-05-2001. 1500000 y. CONTACT: KAKUSARETA_YUJIN._ **

Hmm… “QK” meant “Quick Kill,” and there was an expiration date. The bounty was rather low. Chiaki scrunched her nose, then jotted the post number down on scratch paper. She moved on.

But there were no other prospects in the Asashin.Santai newsgroup. For once, the Tokyo underworld was relatively peaceful. Chiaki sighed, then pulled up the bounty on Saburo Goromaru once more. She reread the scant information a few times, weighed her options, then typed: **_msg to kakusareta_yujin moshi moshi_**

Now she waited, chewing her thumbnail. If the original poster wasn’t at his computer…

The screen returned with: **_KY: Kon'nichiwa_**

Kakusareta Yujin was online! He responded! Chiaki’s heart leapt. She composed her thoughts, then wrote: **_inquiry on goromaru bounty. more detail pls?_**

The reply was almost instant: **_KY:_** **_Is that you, Gōsutohando?_**

Chiaki sat up straight. “ _Gōsutohando_ ” was her Dark Web alias. Had she worked with this contact before?

Uncertain what to do, the teenager merely hesitated.

Then: **_KY: Its alright, you have good credit_**

This was a code phrase. Someone with “good credit” was an underworld member who had a solid reputation. KY was effectively saying, “You’re cool, I’m cool.” This was reassuring.

Chiaki quickly typed: **_Pls forgive_**

**_KY: No need_ **

Chiaki: **_More about_** **_goromaru pls_**

**_KY: Should be an easy job. You mark my words._ **

Chiaki nearly rolled her eyes. Who used old, corny expressions like “ _you mark my words?_ ” Old people, that’s who. Kakusareta Yujin was obviously an older fellow.

She wrote: **_need some details_**

**_KY: Of course. Goromaru is an executive at Nakamuda Motors. Betrayed Korigashi._ **

Ah ha. Now Chiaki understood. Mr. Goromaru, whomever he was, had borrowed large sums from a loan shark, then turned the lender into the police when it came time to settle his debts. No wonder there was a price on his head.

This bounty was an easy one, and would not be on the listings for long. Immediately, Chiaki typed: **_I accept_**

*****

It was approaching 9:00 that evening. Marunouchi, the business district of Tokyo, was emptied of most day commuters. Yet the office buildings and sidewalk cafes were still open. Exhausted businessmen and excited twenty-somethings wandered the streets, most of them ignoring the splendor of the iron-and-glass skyscrapers that surrounded them.

Off Naka-Dori Avenue, the revolving doors of the Nakamuda Building spun. Two Japanese businessmen, both dressed in black Ginza Global suits with black ties of silk and shining black shoes, exited. The men paused to light cigarettes.

The older of the two was also the taller man. He straightened, looking up and down the avenue with a wary glance.

“What’s up with you, Saburo?” his companion asked. “You’re jumpy today.”

“I’m not,” frowned the taller man.

The other businessman grinned. “Relax, bro. Your wife’s at home, thinking you have to be on a conference call with Switzerland.” He snickered. “She’s probably on her third glass of plum wine for the evening. She’s **_fine_**. Live a little.”

“Hmmgh,” grunted Saburo Goromaru. Even for a mid-aged Japanese executive, he was trim and very fit, and he stood with exceptional posture. Goromaru had the thinnest of moustaches, which connected with his well-groomed beard. This made his sharp features quite handsome… although people noticed that his smile never touched his keen brown eyes.

“C’mon,” Koji Hime, the other businessman, coaxed. Hime was squatter and stooped more than Goromaru. His pudgy face was blotched from acme, but his demeanor was cheerful and inviting. He exhaled a puff of smoke, then gestured down the street with his head. “I don’t want to go home either. Lemme buy you a sake.”

Goromaru hesitated, then shrugged. “Lead on,” he said.

*****

 _Attakai Shokuji_ was a small _shokudo_ restaurant, not three blocks from the Nakamuda Building. The establishment was little more than a sushi counter, manned by two tired-looking chefs, and then three tiny tables. The space was cramped and dark, with the many specials of the day written hastily on posters taped on the wall.

Goromaru and Hime assumed two stools at the counter, immediately ordering drinks. They scanned the menus with mild interest.

“My wife wants to get a house cat,” Hime said conversationally. “Can you believe it? I’d have cat hair all over my business suits.”

“Don’t let her,” warned Goromaru. “Or your promotion’s fucked. No-one promotes a slob covered in cat hair.”

“You got that right,” Hime grunted in agreement. He took a gulp of sake.

Behind the two businessmen, a young Japanese man entered the restaurant, claiming one of the small tables. “Octopus and seaweed salad!” he called out to the chefs. Then he sat, pulling a thick _Manga_ comic from his backpack.

A sumo match came up on the TV mounted behind the counter.

“So… after we eat…” Hume prompted, “strip club? Or brothel?”

“Strip club,” Goromaru opined.

“Yeah, we **_could_** do that…” Hime wheedled. “But, eh, you said you just came into some money? Why get our cocks teased when we can have the real thing, right?”

Goromaru poured a second sake. “A quick one does sound nice,” he admitted. “Eh, very well.”

Hime nodded with satisfaction. “I gotta take a leak,” he announced, then rose to make his way to the back of the restaurant.

His thoughts brooding, Goromaru turned his attention back up to the televised sumo match. On the screen, the champion was unexpectedly surprised, and then tossed out of the ring. The crowd applauded politely.

“Excuse me, please?” a playful woman’s voice said at Goromaru’s elbow.

Surprised, the executive turned on his seat. Standing slightly behind him was a very beautiful young lady, dressed in a secondary school uniform: button-down blouse, black suitcoat, short, black skirt, plain black shoes, high white socks. A school crest was on the suitcoat’s lapel. That skirt looked to be one size too small, and it was impossible that the little garment completely covered the girl’s rear whenever she bent over.

The beautiful young lady’s black hair was tied back in a neat ponytail which extended far past her narrow shoulders. A small backpack dangled from her delicate hands.

Goromaru blinked. The top of the girl’s blouse was opened, and one could easily look down into her cleavage. Her round breasts were pressed upward. Was she wearing a push-up bra? Or was she **_naturally_** that perky? Goromaru’s imagination longed to know.

“I am so sorry, sir,” the girl blushed. She spoke in the formal tone. “Please forgive my interruption.”

She was so beautiful. Soft, doe-like green eyes, ( ** _green_** eyes!) with pleasant cheekbones, and silk-like skin. A teenage goddess. Just like Goromaru’s wife, back when he’d first met her.

“Oh, no interruption,” Goromaru said, a wide grin spreading across his lean face.

The girl smiled and blushed. “I am very lost,” she confessed. “I was supposed to taxi and meet my boyfriend at Akihabara.” Her smile wilted. “But he never came… Er, tell me, do you know where the train station is?”

“Well, let’s see now…” Goromaru was already scheming. Perhaps he could entice the girl to come back to the Nakamuda Building? At this time of night, the executives’ suite would be empty…

The girl started fumbling with her backpack, pulling out a tourist’s map. “I know the train station at 1 Chrome Marunouchi… which is in… Chiyoda, right? Oh, this neighborhood is so confusing. I must keep making wrong turns… Oh no!”

The backpack spilled open, dropping lipstick, brochures, a tissue packet, a small cellular telephone, a coin purse, and perhaps two hundred yen in cash, all over the floor.

Immediately, the young woman dropped to her knees, desperately grabbing at her belongings. “Oh no, oh no…!” she mumbled over and over.

“Allow me,” Goromaru said quickly. He knelt too, helping to snatch up the small items. The older man couldn’t help steal an admiring glance at the girl’s cream-colored breasts.

“Oh, so clumsy…!” the girl muttered in embarrassed shame.

“Not at all,” smiled Goromaru. He could smell the young woman’s floral perfume.

As the executive worked, he didn’t notice as the young woman raised one slender hand. She gently placed it between Goromaru’s shoulderblades… then pressed down, lightly.

At first, the executive thought he must have been bitten by an insect or spider. The spot on his back flared in brief pain, but only for a second.

“Oh no, you must think I’m a scatterbrain,” the girl said, quickly withdrawing her hand. She scooped up the remainder of her things, shoving everything into her backpack. “Thank you for helping me, you’re so sweet.”

“Now then,” Goromaru started to say, “would you like to come with-“

The executive’s head began spinning. His breathing became ragged as his heartrate started to accelerate. Annoyed at his disorientation, he tried to grin at the young woman. Maybe if he could ride this dizzy spell out, he could offer her a drink?

“Oh, thank you, sir,” the girl sighed happily, zipping her backpack shut. “Now, please, which way to the train station, please?”

Sweat popped out on Goromaru’s forehead. His limbs ached, and the pounding of his heart was getting faster. A hot flash swept over him. Fighting to concentrate, he tried to focus on the girl’s request.

“Er… down the block…” the executive mumbled. His breathing grew ragged. “…right at the avenue… then… should be easy…”

A **_stabbing pain_** pierced his chest. Goromaru grimaced in agony.

“Oh, thank you, _Okyakusama_ ,” the girl gushed, acting as if nothing was wrong. “Thank you so much.”

She leapt to her feet, then was out the restaurant door. She was gone in mere seconds. The chefs and bored patrons had never even noticed that she was there.

But Goromaru could not command his legs to rise. Now his body felt as if it were on fire, and his every muscle screamed in sharp pain. The executive’s heart raced, almost exploding from within his chest.

“Hey… Hey!” Hime exclaimed, returning from the restroom. He hurried and knelt by his colleague. “Hey, you okay? Saburo?”

Goromaru cried out, a wordless yelp of terror. His body spasmed once, twice, then nonstop. He flopped over onto one side, kicking madly. Two of the counter chairs were knocked over by his convulsions. The restaurant customers jumped to their feet.

Then Saburo Goromaru wheezed pitifully, his face twisting as every muscle spasmed. He heaved one last breath before trembling and collapsing to the floor. He was dead.

*****


	2. Untraceable

“And when you take the second derivative,” Instructor Hondo-san droned on, scribbling on the chalkboard, “you see the **_rate_** of acceleration, which-“

The bell rang. Almost as one, students shut notebooks and reached for their pencilcases.

“We’re out of time? Already?” exclaimed Hondo-san, peering up at the clock. “Oh. Uh… Very well.” He stood taller, then adopted a formal tone. “For next time, Chapter 4, Section 13. Please do all even-numbered problems as tonight’s assignment.”

The students rose as one, facing their instructor. Then, everyone bowed at the same time. The lesson was over.

Chiaki thrust her belongings into her backpack and joined her classmates filing out into the corridor. The other teenagers were already laughing and gossiping.

Noriko, a tall and beautiful senior girl, was halfway through a story. “…and then,” she exclaimed, “Kaito actually called Himari and was all like, ‘ _I want to go out with you!_ ’ And you know what happened next, right?”

All the other kids broke out into delighted laughter. Chiaki had no idea what was so funny.

Grinning proudly, Noriko caught Chiaki’s eye. “Hey you,” she said haughtily. “What, you have no sense of humor?”

Michiya, one of the cooler boys, rolled his eyes. “Chi wasn’t with us at _Unagi No Ie_ last night, remember?”

“I was busy,” Chiaki protested.

“Sure, sure,” huffed Noriko. “We’re only your best friends, Chi. I’m sure there’s so much more important stuff in your life after us.”

Chiaki felt her cheeks burn. “I… just have a lot going on,” she managed.

“Whatever,” Michiya snorted.

*****

Chiaki fumed on the bus ride home. What was **_with_** her friends? Didn’t they understand that her life didn’t revolve around theirs? Why did they think everything they did was so fucking important?

The beautiful teenager sighed. The truth, she knew, wasn’t that her friends had become more arrogant. No. It was Chiaki herself who had changed.

Back when she was thirteen, Chiaki’s mother had surprised her with an unpleasant announcement. “You are far too undisciplined,” Honoka sniffed. “You father and I have decided: you must learn Zen meditation.”

“ ** _What???_** ” Chiaki had wailed in horror.

“It’s a sensible, traditional Japanese skill,” her mother asserted. “Why, when I was ten, my mother took me to my first meditation class. It prepared me for womanhood, and eventually marriage.”

Young Chiaki was aghast. But before she could mount a suitable protest, she was thrust into a white meditation robe, complete with _rakusu_ , and sitting lotus-style in Taji-san’s Beginner Meditation class. Twenty other students sat about her. The used robes smelled like old candles.

“Focus only on the now,” Taji-san droned on, walking slowly and aimlessly among his students. “Clear your mind of the past and what is to be. Think only of the present.”

For over a year, Chiaki was dragged back into that meditation studio, gaining little more than a sore butt from sitting on the hardwood floor.

But then one Saturday, quite by accident, and much to her surprise, Chiaki entered a Zen trance. The teen’s senses faded as her subconscious spoke to her.

 _You are unhappy,_ Chiaki’s subconscious told her. _You must find a new way to express yourself._

Chiaki was dumbfounded. _Wait… what the hell does that mean?_ she asked.

 _Be open to new feelings,_ her subconscious advised. _They will lead you to your happiness._

As inner revelations went, this guidance wasn’t much. And yet, young Chiaki was shaken to the core. “Your inner self serves you well,” Taji-san advised when she told him of the experience. “You will be wise to heed it.”

Then, that very night, Tokyo Broadcast News led with a story about a famous Yakuza chief who was knifed in his bed by a stealthy assassin. Both the chief’s wife and mistress were featured on the news, sobbing about what a horrible thing the killing was. And then the local police chief was hurried before the cameras. “We know the killer’s alias is _Burakkumanba_ in the criminal underworld,” he said haplessly. “And we will not rest until he is brought to justice.”

For Chiaki, the news story was a thunderbolt, fired straight into her core of her being. She didn’t care about the slain Yakuza chief, his wife, his mistress, or even the police chief. No, to Chiaki, the star of the story was the assassin. Why, this person – _Burakkumanba_ – had committed the ultimate crime under the nose of all of Tokyo! How brash! The young teenager watched the newspapers carefully… but _Burakkumanba_ was never brought to justice.

A few years later, Chiaki’s father had bought the home computer, secondhand. Chiaki was now sixteen, was sneaking out to frequent the trendy Tokyo nightclubs. By flirting with the right seedy gentlemen, she learned of the Dark Web, and then how to access it. Soon she was cruising the Asashin.Santai newsgroup like a pro. _Burakkumanba_ was there, accepting and posting assignments! He was nicknamed the “Ghost Killer” because no-one knew how he reached his victims.

Chiaki was amazed to learn that there were other premium killers on the newsgroup, too! She watched them all very carefully. Everyone had a cool codename. _Aisuman_ was a top competitor to _Burakkumanba._ And _Shub_ _ō-Sha_ , whomever he was, was an assassin’s rock star, the guy everyone else was talking about. _Shub_ _ō_ rarely struck, but when he did, he was fast, lethal, and he took down the high-profile marks. He was certainly rich. Chiaki secretly wondered if the man was a hottie.

By the time she was seventeen, Chiaki was hooked. The assassin’s life was cloaked in secrecy and danger; she loved that. Realizing that she could use her own sensuous body as a lure, she created the profile of _Gōsutohando_ , then started accepting modest assignments.

She was good at stealth killing. Within a month, she knew: this was the life for her.

The school bus sighed to a halt, jolting Chiaki back into the present.

Two young freshman girls filed down the bus’s center aisle. As they passed, Chiaki realized they were staring at her. The teenager frowned, but the girls did not avert their judgmental gazes.

If there was a dark side to Chiaki’s new, secret life, it was that her social life had withered. Chiaki hadn’t been expecting that. She was forever missing outings with her friends, forever behind with in-jokes, forever left out of gossip. Somehow her peers just **_sensed_** that something had changed within her. They didn’t want to be with her anymore.

There was an expression that Chiaki noted popping up again and again on the newsgroup: _An assassin is always alone._ At first, she’d scoffed at this expression.

But it was painfully true.

*****

The _Dakuuebu_Net_ app took longer than usual to connect to the Dark Web. Chiaki glared at her father’s computer monitor, still seething about the freshmen girls’ rude behavior. If she ever saw those two bitches in the hallway-

The command prompt appeared. The connection to the Dark Web was live. Chiaki scowled, shoved aside her smoldering feelings, and then forced her fingers to the keyboard. It was time to go to work.

She typed **_msg_** **_kakusareta_yujin_** ** _are you there?_**

She hit ENTER, then reclined in her father’s chair. Her parents were downstairs, watching one of those infuriating game shows that humiliated the contestants. Chiaki could dimly hear the goofy sound effects from the television and her father’s laughter.

The clock ticked. The cursor merely blinked. Chiaki was tempted to disconnect, if only to-

Then, the monitor printed: **_KY:_** **_moshi moshi, Gōsutohando._**

The teenager let out a sigh of relief. Kakusareta Yujin, whomever he was, was online. Now to conclude their business.

She thought for a second, then merely typed: **_Mark completed._**

The response was quick: **_KY: So soon?_**

Annoyed, Chiaki wrote, **_yes._**

**_KY: need proof_ **

Chiaki was ready for this. She replied **_Times page 28L bottom_**

Now the monitor was still for a few minutes. Somewhere, Chiaki knew Yujin was leafing through The Tokyo Times. At the left-bottom of page 28, he would find:

**_NAKAMUDA MOTORS EXECUTIVE DEAD FROM HEART ATTACK_ **

**_By Daichi Watanabe. 21-04-2001, Tokyo._ **

**_Saburo Goromaru, a senior executive at Nakamuda Motors, unexpectedly suffered a fatal heart attack while dining in Marunouchi last night. Mr. Goromaru’s passing is a setback for Nakamuda, as he was the company’s public face of their electric car development project._ **

**_A loving and dedicated family man, Mr. Goromaru was also a known aikido competitor. He…_ **

Chiaki waited, inspecting her nails. Perhaps when the Goromaru payment came through, she would treat herself to a treatment at the spa…

The monitor finally came to life. **_KY: that was you?_**

 ** _Obviously_** , Chiaki replied.

 ** _KY: kill is untraceable?_** He was suspicious.

 ** _Completely,_** explained Chiaki. **_Gave Goromaru 20 CCs of hydrophainchlorphine with ring injector. that drug can stop elephants heart. untraceable._**

The real advantage of working afternoons in Dr. Itō’s veterinary office was that Chiaki could flirt with Haru, Dr. Itō’s administrative assistant. Haru was a lonely thirty-something with bad teeth and a pock-marked face. A jumpy little man, he was hopelessly addicted to _hentai_ porn, and this had ruined his chances to ever find a mate. The man was desperately lonely.

But more importantly, Haru had the keys to Dr. Itō’s medicine closets. It was child’s play for Chiaki to flirt with him, lift his keys, then raid the closets for the poisons she needed. Dull-witted Haru had not once realized how he was being played.

On the monitor, Chiaki’s underworld contact began typing. **_KY: ring injector? thats smart. i heard you were good. yur account num?_**

A feeling of relief and pride filled the teenager. KY was ready to pay up. From memory, she tapped in her Swiss bank account number, complete with the routing details. It had taken months and a lot of careful planning to set up that account.

 ** _KY: payment sent_** said the monitor. **_Confirm No 3918391-231_**

Pleased, Chiaki found herself nodding. She jotted the confirmation number into a tiny black notebook. Business was concluded.

The teenager reached for the keyboard, preparing to terminate the computer connection.

But then, the monitor printed out: **_KY: u wanna talk?_**

Caught off-guard, Chiaki simply stared back at the screen.

Encrypted conversations across the Dark Web were for conducting illegal business **_only_**. Every interaction was short and to-the-point. No-one used _Dakuuebu_Net_ to gab.

Well, one thing was certain: Kakusareta Yujin, whoever he was, was not an old dude. Old people didn’t like to chat over the computer.

Chiaki watched the blinking cursor, wondering what to do.

**_KY: come on, I’m bored_ **

_Could… just talking be a bad idea?_ Chiaki wondered. There was no way Yujin could trace her location or identity. And if this was some kind of trap, he never would have claimed to send money. From a business perspective, this communication served no further purpose.

And yet…

Suspicious yet intrigued, Chiaki cocked her head to one side. She typed, **_talk_** **_about what?_**

Instantly, the response was, **_KY: you dating anyone?_**

Chiaki almost gagged. Yujin, a dude who arranged murders for a living, wanted to get into her love life? Barf.

 ** _Not your business,_** she wrote back firmly.

**_KY: just asking_ **

And then, after a pause:

**_KY: im thinking of asking this girl out. shes cute. But has never seen me bfore. what do u think?_ **

_He’s **definitely** not an old dude,_ Chiaki thought. She didn’t know whether to be amused or insulted. Yujin was **_supposed_** to be a contract professional. Where was this coming from?

 _Remember, Yujin doesn’t know you’re a girl,_ Chiaki reminded herself. She thought quickly, then typed: **_i dunno, bro._**

**_KY: awwww come on, give me more than that. should I ask this chick out, yes or no?_ **

Chiaki felt ridiculous. **_Sure_** , she replied. A moment of irresistible curiosity swept over her. **_does she know you handle contracts?_**

**_KY: seriously doubt it_ **

_This is officially too weird_ , Chiaki thought in annoyance. She wrote, **_dude, can we just keep this professional?_**

There was a slight pause.

**_KY: ok_ **

There didn’t seem to be much else to say. Chiaki shrugged, then replied, **_ok then. CU later_**

**_KY: wait wait, something i want to ask u_ **

Chiaki grunted in exasperation and glanced at the clock. Her dad’s TV show was nearly over. He would be upstairs in moments. Impatient, she typed, **_what?_**

**_KY: I have a custom job. Something you would be good at, you mark my words_ **

At what was Yujin playing? Frowning, Chiaki wrote, **_so_** **_why not post this job on the boards?_**

**_KY: i like yur kill style. i want u for this job._ **

_I should be flattered_ , Chiaki thought wryly. Something about this offer made her… uneasy.

**_KY: 100,000,000 yen_ **

Chiaki’s jaw dropped. **_A hundred million yen?_** That was… that was huge! With that much, she could… The teenager’s mind whirled.

Ever since becoming an assassin, Chiaki had never been offered a custom job. Is this how the highest-priced killers operated? She wished she knew.

**_KY: interested?_ **

The teenager’s hands flew to the keyboard. She almost began typing.

But… something here wasn’t right. Chiaki couldn’t place her finger on it, but… The little alarm in the back of her head was definitely ringing.

She paused, wishing she had more information.

**_KY: if no, i will ask another assassin. Cant put this one on the msg board_ **

Chiaki bit her lip. Yukin was pressuring her. If only to buy time, she wrote, **_tell me about the mark._**

**_KY: Young guy. 21 yrs old, japanese, computer expert, no crim record. from Hokkaido, new to Tokyo area._ **

The teenage assassin frowned. She was used to rubbing out corrupt businessmen, petty criminals, and occasionally the odd debtors. A computer expert? This was unusual.

Perhaps sensing her unease and puzzlement, her prospective employer added:

**_KY: apparently this guy hacked the North Koreans. this job is prob a revenge hit._ **

Oh. That make more sense. Chiaki felt herself relax a little.

**_KY: there is one stipulation, kill must happen very late this saturday night. Target is hosting a party, client wants kill to happen one hour after the party. no payment otherwise._ **

Okay, that was odd, but not terribly unusual. Chiaki had seen other bounties that had time requirements, _Do not kill target until he sells off stocks_ or _Target must be killed only while away from home_ , that sort of thing. Chiaki had never heard of an after-party assassination, however.

**_KY: what do you think?_ **

From downstairs, the young woman heard her parents snap off the television and then rise from their chairs. They would be upstairs almost within a minute.

 ** _i will think about it,_** Chiaki wrote.

**_KY: no. need commitment_ **

He added:

**_KY: fee has just increased to 120 million yen_ **

_Shit_ , thought Chiaki.

Knowing she was being impulsive, she wrote: **_i accept. send details in secure email? have to go_**

Then she severed the connection and closed the app.

*****


	3. Recon for Akio Iekami

The secure email was waiting for Chiaki the next time she got on her father’s computer. After typing in the password to her encryption key, the teenager read:

**_DATE: 2001-05-03_ **

**_TO: gōsutohando382@fjd.secure.co.jp_ **

**_FROM: kakusareta_yujin@foran.secure.co.jp_ **

**_SUBJECT: info_ **

**_Target is Akio Iekami, 21 Japanese male. Iekami is a computer expert, allegedly a video game designer, although it is likely he is also an agent and renowned computer hacker. Wealthy. Unmarried. Largely reclusive, but has friends in the gaming world._ **

**_Kill must happen one hour after Iekami’s party, which will be held at his residence, 2001-05-05, 9 PM. Recommend you blend in with guests, who will be ages 20-25._ **

**_Target Resides: 393 Heisei Dori, Tokyo_ **

**_Known Associates: unknown_ **

**_Notes: Iekami spent some of his teenage years in USA, is obsessed with American culture, specifically “grunge rock,” American video games, and American junk food. Prefers to be called by his American name, Alex._ **

There were no attached photographs. Chiaki read and reread the information carefully, plans already forming in her head.

Over her short time in the assassination game, Chiaki had developed a relatively simple kill style. Just as she had done to Saburo Goromaru, she liked to dress up as the dumb and sexy schoolgirl; innocent, alluring, seemingly helpless. It was amazing how often middle-aged men fell for such a simple ruse.

But Chiaki couldn’t play the schoolgirl at a chic Tokyo party. The teenager scowled, realizing that she’d have to reinvent her approach. She’d think of something. The party wasn’t until Saturday.

There would no doubt be a lot of young women fawning over Iekami at this party. To lure her target, Chiaki would need more than just a pretty face and nice dress. What could she use to capture his attention?

Chiaki re-scanned the email, seeking information. Iekami was a video game guy. What did Chiaki know about video games? Nothing. And she doubted she could convincingly fake an interest to lure Iekami into conversation. For what else did he have a passion?

 _What about his America fascination?_ wondered the teenager, absently chewing on her thumbnail. She’d never thought much of the USA, but she could pose as a fellow America-lover, right? _Iekami even goes by an American name_ , she noted. _Hmm…_

What American girl names did Chiaki know? Mary? Jane? Mary Jane? Were those American or English names? She wasn’t sure.

There was a world atlas on her father’s bookshelf. This was the only book with anything America-related in the Takahashi household. Annoyed, Chiaki pulled the heavy tome into her lap, then began leafing through all the pages depicting the United States. _Cripes,_ she thought. _Why are there so many highways in America?_

The states of North and South Carolina sprawled across pages 133 and 134. There, squatting in the center of the map, was the city of Charlotte.

 _Charlotte_ … the Japanese teenager mused. _That’s an American girl’s name, right?_

A quick Internet search showed that, yes, there were many American women named Charlotte. There was also an American book called Charlotte’s Web that was the subject of many personal homepages.

Pleased, the teenager thought this a good omen. “Chiaki” would become “Charlotte.” The Japanese name transformed into the American one.

Now all that had to happen was for Charlotte to meet Alex. Perfect.

*****

393 Heisei Dori was in Chūō, a one of the more modest wards of downtown Tokyo. Here, the buildings were tall, but not skyscrapers. The restaurants were excellent, but not trendy. The sidewalks were full, but not crowded. Chiaki did not venture to this part of the city often, and this was not where cool singles liked to go.

But today was about recon. After ruminating on it, Chiaki decided that she needed to see the building where Alex lived, check out his neighborhood, and maybe glimpse the man himself. Any extra information she could gleam would be useful. Luck favors the prepared.

So Chiaki had skipped school and hopped the train into Tokyo. Now, scrutinizing her map closely, she was threading her way through the mazelike streets of the city. It was a pleasantly warm day. She wore her school uniform and backpack, and she ignored the street vendors who stared at her short skirt.

Heisei Dori was a wide avenue, lined with smaller office buildings and tall parking garages. Chiaki frowned. This was not a residents’ neighborhood. Perhaps Alex worked at Number 393, but lived elsewhere? But then why would the party be at his office?

Wait…! The teenager blinked. There, not five meters ahead, was a modest, unmarked warehouse, constructed from hardwood and bamboo. A plaque outside the door said: **_HEISEI DORI / NUMBER 393_**.

 _Well, well,_ Chiaki thought, inspecting the building. There were a set of double doors of tinted glass that undoubtably led to the warehouse’s interior; but they bore no signage and were locked shut. The windows of the warehouse were dark. Not one of the pedestrians strolling by seemed to notice the bland structure.

Nothing here was providing any useful information. Discouraged, Chiaki began looking up and down the street.

To the left of the warehouse was a coin-operated laundromat and then a tiny snack shop. Chiaki weighed her options, and decided to take a mild chance. She popped on her sunglasses, then entered the snack house.

*****

The dim little store was bristling with a vast array of Japanese junk food: Kappa Ebisen shrimp-flavored crisps, Pocky, Dorayakim, dried squid, Pretz sticks, glitter candy, Anpan, the full Kinoko No Yama candy assortment, fruit gummies, Hello Kitty lollipops, and more hung from every spare inch of the walls. There was also a row of shelves down the center of the store, overburdened with chips and sodas. A sign advertising cigarettes hung behind the ancient cash register.

Chiaki frowned as she looked about, offended by the brazen tackiness of the shop. There was a man in his mid-thirties in the back, leafing through the small magazine rack. An older woman, stooped and wrinkled, appeared from the back room. She carried a cardboard box of bagged crisps, and began thrusting them onto a shelf.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” Chiaki said, using the formal polite tone used to address elders. “The warehouse next door, do you know-“

“Oh, no, not another one,” the old woman snapped, her scowl becoming fierce. She glared at Chiaki. “I’m **_sick_** of you disrespectful kids here, you know that?”

The man at the magazine rack swiveled about to frown at Chiaki.

“Excuse me?” the teenager said, taken aback.

“Every week!” huffed the old shopkeeper. “Every week you kids throw such noisy parties in that damn warehouse! You scare off the respectable folks. And worse, you and your little friends swarm in here and shoplift! You little shits!” She angrily shook a bony fist.

“I’ll be going,” Chiaki said quickly. She bowed, then made a fast retreat to the sidewalk.

Well, then! Now this trip was producing useful intel. Alex Iekami was throwing **_multiple_** parties, each loud enough to disrupt the neighborhood. Chiaki smiled to herself. If Iekami was throwing weekly parties, he couldn’t possibly know everyone on the guest list. Once the warehouse doors were opened, it would be easy to blend into the party-going crowd. If only she knew-

“Hey!” a man’s voice called out.

Chiaki turned. The thirty-something man from the snack shop had followed her out to the street. “Hey!” he said again, then smiled.

The teenager paused. The man was tall and well-built, with handsome and rugged features. His skin was pale but perfectly smooth, and Chiaki liked his white teeth and square jaw. He wore a modest black suit which fit his chiseled frame very nicely.

“You’re a friend of Alex?” the man said, still smiling. He bowed, adding, “Ah, forgive me, I am Sora, Sora Hamamoto. Alex and I were in America together.”

Chiaki couldn’t believe her luck! **_A friend of Alex’s?_** With a little flirting, who knew what information she could learn?

“Ah, yes, thank you,” she replied, quick to address Sora formally, then followed with a quick bow and smile. “You know Alex? How lucky for me.” She added, “I am Charlotte Suzuki.”

“Charlotte? Heh, another American lover,” Sora chuckled. “No wonder Alex befriended you. You are coming to the party tomorrow, then?” The man cocked his head to one side. “Did you lose your wristband?”

Chiaki’s smile faded. “Wristband…?” she said carefully.

“At the last party, too many local teens tried to crash,” replied Sora, shaking his head. “Alex sent out wristbands so the bouncers can see who was invited.”

 _Oh crud,_ the teenager thought. _Now I need a wristband?_

She thought quickly. “Well, that’s why I dropped by,” the teen assassin lied. “Alex told me I was getting one, but…”

“But it hasn’t arrived in the mails,” Sora finished. He grunted. “I **_told_** Alex he needed a better system.”

“So… can you help me?” Chiaki asked, knowing she was taking a risk. She lowered her chin, giving Sora her best _lost-sexy-girl_ look.

The man pursed his lips together, momentarily lost in thought. “You know what?” he decided. “Alex gave me two extras, for Riku and Sakura. But those two are forever late. Can’t keep their hands off one another.” He shrugged. “I’m sure Alex wouldn’t mind if I gave you one of theirs.”

“Oh, thank you, mister, thank you!” gushed Chiaki.

“I was supposed to meet Alex half an hour ago,” Sora grumbled, looking at his watch. “He’s obviously behind schedule. Typical. C’mon, the wristbands are in my van. I’m parked that way.” And he gestured up the street.

*****

The man and teenager strolled briskly, attracting some curious stares. Chiaki paid them no mind. Instead, she plied Sora for more information.

“Oh, that boy,” Sora sighed. “He’s a good friend, but lately his video game success has gone to his head. I mean, he throws these wild parties, and it doesn’t occur to him that someday the cops will ask him to tone things down?”

“How did you meet Alex?” Chiaki asked innocently.

The two crossed a narrow street, then Sora moved toward an empty alley. “Well, you could say he’s a competitor, of sorts,” the man replied. “Honestly, he and I **_should_** be bitter rivals. He’s cost me enough business. Ah, here’s my van.”

The white vehicle was parked up the alley. The sides bore a logo for a company called Omnitron Systems.

“That’s my company,” Sora explained, indicating the Omnitron logo. A look of disgust crossed his face as he fished his car keys from his pocket. “My regular driver called in sick today, so I have to make the deliveries.” He shook his head. “That guy **_always_** calls in sick. Say, you don’t happen to know a nice young man looking for a job, do you?”

“Sorry, Hamamoto-san.”

“Yeah, no worries.” Sora unlocked the side door of his van and slid it open. “Oh, my cellular,” he exclaimed, dipping his hand into his jacket’s breast pocket, although Chiaki did not hear any ringing. “I have to take this call. Hey, see that backpack? The wristbands are in there.” He drew out his phone, immediately putting it to his ear. “ _Moshi moshi_ , this is Sora?”

Chiaki immediately saw the man’s backpack, lying open on the floor of the van. She snatched the bag, pulled it towards her, then peered inside. The light inside the van was so dark…

A sharp pain jabbed the teenager in her buttock, right through her underwear. The sensation was brief. Nonetheless, Chiaki yelped and whirled around.

Sora was watching her carefully, withdrawing his hand from her rear end. Too late, Chiaki saw his ring; a tiny needle extended outwards. **_A ring injector!_**

 _Oh shit!_ Chiaki went pale. She’d been injected with something?

Before she could react further, the teenager felt a sickening, tingling sensation within her tush, spreading rapidly. The ground felt uneven beneath her feet as her head began spinning. She was losing consciousness.

“You…!” she mumbled, frightened.

“Relax, bitch,” Sora muttered, scooping Chiaki into his arms.

With one swift, forceful motion, the teen was shoved into the van, left to topple onto the cold metal floor. As the world faded to black, she could hear the van door slam shut.

Then she knew no more.

*****

_Chiaki’s mother was still glowering. “Have you applied to university yet?” the old hag screeched, sounding like a sea-witch from a fairy tale._

_“No, Mom, leave me alone!” snarled Chiaki._

_But her mother grew louder and shriller. “You’re not listening to me! You’re not listening to me!”_

_The room began to swirl, as if reality itself was breaking down. “You’re not listening to meeeee!” shrieked the sea-witch, becoming a thousand harsh voices._

_“Shut up, shut up!” screamed Chiaki, now terrified. She clamped her hands over her ears. “Go away, leave me alone!”_

_“You will dieeeeeee!” cried out the horrible voices. There was no shutting them out._

*****

Slowly, Chiaki felt herself emerging from the nightmare. Her entire body felt stiff and bruised, as if her muscles had turned to wood. The sickening terror of the dream lingered, and for a time, her confused thoughts couldn’t tell what was real and what was not.

Piece-by-piece, she regained her wits. The air about her was cold and damp. She was sitting in a chair, but could not move. Her ankles and wrists hurt. Her head throbbed with a headache. Her stomach churned. Her throat and lips were bone dry. She could hear… voices. Men’s voices. Close by.

Chiaki wanted to groan, but her throat was bone-dry. Her voice was completely dormant. Moving any part of her body seemed impossible. Her eyes felt glued shut.

“Reading card,” one of the men said. Sora. “Hmmgh, one point.”

“Ugh,” another man replied, sounding displeased. “ _Otetsuki_. My territory.”

“Shit.” Sora sounded disgusted, and his companion laughed.

The teenager felt a wave of nausea. Her body tried to groan again, but no actual sound escaped her lips.

Her thoughts were clearing, rapidly. **_She’d been kidnapped!_** Fury roiled over her.

Among her female classmates, rumors abounded of evil men who kidnapped Japanese schoolgirls. And then pressed them into sexual slavery throughout Asia! Supposedly Japanese girls were considered the most desirable. Did Sora think he could sell her to a harem or sleezy brothel?

But Chiaki was an experienced killer. If given the chance, she’d tear Sora apart like wet rice paper.

Immediately, the teenager’s quick mind went into action. All she had to do was be patient, play dumb, and wait for the right opportunity. At her first chance, she’d choke the life from Sora and anyone who was helping him. And she’d laugh while doing it.

“I’ll draw again,” Sora announced, still playing his card game. There was the soft flip of paper. “Fuck!”

His companion laughed cruelly.

“Shut the fuck up, Eiji,” growled Sora. “I swear, you’re cheating.”

“You’re a sore loser, man,” Eiji replied dryly.

Chiaki heard the quiet rustle of cyclophane, and then the flick of a cigarette lighter. Tobacco smoke hit upon the air.

“Its been, what, over an hour?” Eiji asked. “You shot her up with the usual knockout dosage?”

“Yeah.”

Chiaki seethed.

“So she should have woken up by now,” said Eiji. His Japanese had a slight accent. Perhaps he was from Hokkaido?

There was a pause as the two men continued to flip cards. Chiaki willed herself to remain motionless and listen carefully.

Eiji asked, “You’re sure Iekami will want this girl?”

“Oh, yeah,” Sora assured his companion. “She’s the exact kind of broad that he goes for: round, tight ass, long legs, big eyes, nice tits. He won’t be able to resist her.”

“How’d you find her, anyway?”

Sora snorted. “The dumb twat came into the shop next door to Iekami’s warehouse, shooting her mouth off,” replied Sora, then exhaled. “She actually said she was going to Iekami’s next party! Practically gift-wrapped herself for me.”

“Lucky break,” Eiji remarked, sounding pleased. “I was worried we wouldn’t be able to find one of Iekami’s airheaded chicks in time.”

Sora took a long drag on his cigarette, then exhaled. “We should have struck at him ages ago,” he grumbled.

“I’m not so sure about that,” Eiji said cautiously.

But Sora made a disgusted sound. “Brother, you’ve seen the Asashin Santai newsgroup. You know what’s out there.”

Despite herself, Chiaki was startled. The Asashin Santai newsgroups? The assassins’ board that she followed on Dakuuebu_Net? Were… Sora and Eiji contract killers?

The young woman’s blood ran cold.

“There’s too much competition nowadays,” complained Sora, sounding disgusted. “Back when you and I first invented the _Burakkumanba_ persona… man, we owned this town! All the biggest contract kills flowed to us!”

“We had the market cornered,” agreed Eiji.

“And we will again,” Sora said, determined. “I don’t know why we didn’t think to wipe out the fucking competition years ago.”

Chiaki was both fascinated and horrified. She was a prisoner of one of the most ruthless killers in Japan!

A sickening thought occurred to the teenager: Could Sora somehow know she was _Gōsutohando?_ If so, Chiaki had no doubt that she would be terminated, **_immediately._**

“Listen, man,” Eiji said, his tone nervous, “I’m starting to have doubts about this plan.”

“You would,” scoffed Sora.

“Sooner or later,” Eiji said, his tone hardening, “the other hitmen will notice that something’s going on. They’ll figure out that they’re being hunted.”

“Relax,” said Sora. “We took down _Aisuman_ , didn’t we? If we can whack _Aisuman_ , we can-“

“ _Aisuman_ was a lucky kill,” argued Eiji. “We won’t get another one of those.” He made a disapproving grunt. “You’re sure this Alex Iekami guy is the famous _Shub_ _ō-Sha_? Cause if you’re wrong-“

“Oh, I’m sure,” snapped Sora. “Iekami’s posing as a hotshot computer gamer to impress women. But he’s _Shub_ _ō._ Its him. What’s more…”

The tall man’s voice trailed off.

“Son of a bitch,” the assassin hissed, angry. “The little slut’s awake! She’s been listening to us!”

“Fuck me, seriously?” said Eiji.

Chiaki heard both men approach, and then her jaw was seized, roughly. “Open those pretty eyes, girl,” Sora snarled. “Or I’ll peel them open.”

Despite her desperate situation, the teenager could not control her own rage. Her eyes flew open, and she lunged to bite Sora’s hand. The killer yanked back just in time.

Eiji laughed.

Chiaki squinted in the harsh light. She was sitting in a drab, gray room, with rusting metal shelves against cement block walls. The shelves held cardboard boxes and stacks of metal cans. There was a single electric light hanging from the low ceiling, and no windows. This cast gloomy shadows about the corners of the room. To one side, there was a wooden desk, piled high with papers and smaller boxes. And on the floor, there was a tatami mat with a half-finished card game of Karuta spilled across its surface.

Chiaki glared upwards at her two kidnappers. Sora was still dressed in his black suit, but now his expression was contemptuous. Behind him was a second Japanese man, shorter and squatter. Eiji, no doubt. Sora’s companion was bald, with a frog-like face and an ugly glare. He also wore a dark suit. Both men were in bare feet.

“You fucking shitheads,” Chiaki spat. Her rage overrode more sensible instincts, and she struggled furiously. Her wrists, ankles, and chest were tightly bound against the heavy wooden chair with thick ropes. “You fucking shitheads! Do you have any idea who I am? Who my father is? **_You’re so fucking dead!_** ”

The young woman was lying through her teeth, of course. In the past, she’d been able to bluff adults by playing the spoiled, enraged princess. In Japanese society, a culture built on reverence and non-confrontation, it was amazing how often this tactic worked.

Sora narrowed his eyes. “Oh, really?” he drawled. “And just who is your father?”

 _Shit,_ Chiaki thought in despair. He was calling her bluff. “I’m not telling you anything,” she flung back. “You have maybe an hour to let me go, before they find you.”

Eiji looked alarmed, but Sora waved him off. “Tell me, girl,” the tall man said, raising his cigarette to his lips, “how do you know Alex Iekami?”

“Fuck off,” Chiaki snarled.

“She’s brave, I’ll give her that,” Sora said to Eiji. The tall man turned and walked to the desk. He began rummaging about, his back to Chiaki.

“Maybe,” threatened Chiaki, “if you two assholes let me go, **_right now_** , I’ll choose to forget your faces. And the Yakuza won’t skin you alive. Your choice.”

Eiji chuckled. “Yakuza, huh? Now I know you’re faking, girlie.” He visibly relaxed.

With despair, Chiaki realized she wouldn’t be able to fool these men. A sickening void opened up within her stomach. She was doomed.

“Tell me something, girl,” Sora said conversationally, “don’t you want to help Eiji and me?”

Chiaki set her jaw. If she was about to die, she wouldn’t face her own death without pride.

Sora turned and approached, and now Chiaki could see that his left hand held a long syringe. The long needle glinted silver in the electric light.

Horrified, the teenager tried to pull back.

“Relax,” Sora advised her, quickly swabbing her left forearm with cotton. “This is something to help you relax. I’d recommend you don’t struggle.”

With a savage quickness, the killer plunged the needle into Chiaki’s arm, then emptied the syringe. Then a blossom of gentle warmth appeared in the young woman’s arm as the second drug entered her system.

“There,” Sora said matter-of-factly. The needle withdrew. “That should do it.” He glanced at his watch. “Ten minutes.”

Chiaki’s head begun to spin.

Each of the two men gave her one last piercing look, then returned to crouch on the floor for their card game. Soon it was as if they’d forgotten her entirely.

*****


	4. Brainwashed

Chiaki sat in the chair, nursing her rage. She could still feel the sting in her arm, and a bizarre, glowing sensation creeping through her muscles. Her breathing was ragged and uneven.

 _If I get out of here,_ the teenage assassin thought venomously, _I will hack these two apart with an axe! No, not an axe. What’s that horrible weapon that Americans love? A chainsaw! I will gut Sora and Eiji down the middle with a live chainsaw, so fucking help me!_ Somehow, anger kept her mind focused.

The warm sensation in her arm had faded away. Chiaki didn’t feel any different. Her thoughts were starting to clear. Perhaps Sora’s drug was a dud? What had he said? “ _Something to help you relax?_ ” Well, Chiaki didn’t feel relaxed. She felt…

Well, she did feel a **_little_** relaxed. Both her arms and legs, she noted, were becoming rubbery and warm. Perhaps the ropes were cutting off too much circulation? No, Chiaki couldn’t feel those cords anymore. She tried to flex her fingers, only to discover that her hands didn’t want to respond.

What was going on? Chiaki looked down at herself, and the whole universe seemed to tilt. Her body appeared to be nine miles long. The room was now infinite, with no dimensions and no proportion at all. Chiaki’s arms and legs stretched and stretched, and yet seemed tiny in the expanse.

The teenager failed to notice that her anger was dying. She had the odd sensation of her brain floating out of her head, and her thoughts scattering in all directions. _When I get out of here…_ she thought, only to be unable to complete the sentence. _When I…_

What was she thinking about? Chiaki couldn’t remember. Nothing seemed to matter. Her body had turned into gummy pudding. Unexpectedly, she smiled. She felt awesome.

“There,” she heard Sora announce. He sounded kilometers away. “That should be enough time.”

Soft footsteps approached. Delighted, Chiaki looked up, her head whirling. It was impossible to concentrate.

A hand touched her forehead. Chiaki’s left eyelid, then right eyelid were momentarily pulled upward. “Pupils dilated,” Sona’s voice said. “Good. She’s ready.”

Chiaki smiled widely. A giddy feeling of complete euphoria swept over her.

“Can you hear me, girl?” Sora asked. “What is your name?”

The teenager sighed happily. Why, that was the voice of her best friend, Sora Whats-his-name, the wonderful man she trusted completely and whom would never ever ever ever do anything bad to her.

“I’m Chiaki Takahashi,” the teenager replied joyfully. She slurred her words a little.

“How old are you?”

“Eighteen, mmm, yeah…”

“And where do you live? What do your parents do?”

The answers to these questions were flowing freely from Chiaki’s lips; she couldn’t stop the words had she tried. The teenager was so carefree, so delighted, that she couldn’t possibly want to remain silent. Sora seemed absolutely wonderful to her. She gushed with joy for him.

“Her dad’s a common bureaucrat!” Eiji exclaimed, disgusted. “She lied to us!”

“Of course she lied,” replied Sora. “She’s brave. Heh. That’s good for us.” His voice grew sterner. “What were you doing at Heisei Dori, Chiaki?”

The teen chuckled. “I want t’ attend Alex’s party. Yeah… I was lookin’ fer information. Information… I was lookin’ fer him. Fer Alex…”

“She’s perfect,” Sora said to his partner. “Young, sexy, an airhead, determined to go see Iekami… Perfect.”

“Yeah…” mused Eiji. “Yeah, I’m starting to think you’re correct.”

“Listen to me, Chiaki,” Sora commanded. “I’ve given you a strong dosage of penthahydradrate, a powerful truth serum. It means that you’ll feel great and will want to answer my questions. Understand?”

“Yeaaah,” grinned Chiaki. She was loving this conversation.

“But I need you to kill a man for me,” Sora continued. “The drug will wear off in an hour, but while you are feeling happy and trusting, I want to hypnotize you. You see, once under hypnosis, I can program your subconscious mind, and you will obey me without question long after the drug has worn off. Does that sound okay?”

Chiaki’s confused mind swam. “Suuuure,” she gushed. “Hypnotize me, that’s coooool…”

Immediately, Sora moved away, setting up a machine from one of the boxes on the shelf.

“I don’t get it, man,” Eiji said to his partner. “Every time you brainwash someone, why do you have to explain about the hypnosis part? Why not just drug her and then hypnotize her, but explain nothing?”

“I need her consent,” replied Sora, still working. “Her conscious reasoning is impaired, but her subconscious mind is intact. If it understands that she’s being lulled into hypnosis, it will surrender to us completely. She will be a slave to our instructions, long after the drug is out of her system. She’ll obey me without the slightest inkling of what she’s doing.”

Chiaki laughed aloud. She felt so wonderful. Nothing mattered.

Meanwhile, Sora was wheeling a small machine atop a pole before her. The machine held a large disk, which now faced Chiaki directly. It had a swirly black-and-white pattern on it.

“Now, Chiaki,” Sora instructed, “I want you to look into the center of the disk, got me?”

He flicked a switch, and the disk began to spin. The black-and-white pattern twirled endlessly. Chiaki was captivated, and could not look away. It seemed as if the spiral was becoming an endless tunnel, reaching for her and yet extending away from her all at the same time.

“You’re a fucking genius, man,” she was dimly aware of Eiji saying. “Everyone always wonders how _Burakkumanba_ reached his victims. But you and I never get to see our marks. You just brainwash a family member or someone near the target, and… pow! Genius.”

“Now, Chiaki,” Sora’s voice said, boring into the teenager’s mind, “you will gaze deeply into the pattern, relax, and allow your mind to go into a deep, deep sleep. And after, you will forget. You will forget. You will forget…”

*****

Chiaki blinked.

Her mind seemed to be coming out of a fog. Where was she?

The beautiful teenager looked about, feeling almost silly. Why… she was on the train! Just pulling out of Takaracho Station. The car was packed with evening commuters, and more than one businessman was eyeing her with barely-concealed lust.

 _Wait…_ Chiaki thought, confused. _Why…?_

Then she remembered. Oh, of course! She’d skipped school for the day, traveled up to Tokyo and spent an hour or so staking out Akio Iekami’s warehouse. At 393 Heisei Dori. Ah, yes.

Disappointingly, her trip had not been terribly fruitful. Chiaki had observed the warehouse, even inquired about Iekami within that tacky little snack shop. But she’d learned precious little about her target. All-in-all, it had been a waste of a day.

 _Hmmgh_ , Chiaki thought to herself, annoyed. _Well, now I’ll just have to hope that I can crash Iekami’s party._

In that moment, the teenager shifted her weight slightly, and there was a faint stab of pain in her buttock. _Youch!_ she thought, jumping a little. _Damn that needle…!_

Wait a minute. What needle?

Chiaki frowned, switching her shopping bag from her right hand to left, then absently leaning forward to rub her bum. As she did this, she searched her memories. _Needle?_ she thought again. Her first instinct was that earlier in the day, she’d been jabbed with a needle, right in her tush.

But… she hadn’t been injected with anything… right? The teenager thought carefully. No, she’d been out in public the entire time she’d wandered about Tokyo. No-one had pricked her with a needle.

And yet… Chiaki couldn’t escape the nagging feeling that she had received a shot, right in the tush. Now that she thought about it, she had the lingering sensation that she’d gotten a shot in her left arm, too.

 _Ah, you’re being silly,_ she firmly told herself.

A businessman sitting across from Chiaki smirked, and the teen realized he was enjoying watching her rub her buttock. Pervert. Chiaki shot him a poisoned glance, then pushed errant thoughts of needles from her mind.

*****

The next day was Friday. In all of her preparations for the Akio Iekami hit, Chiaki had completely forgotten about Instructor Hondo-san’s Calculus exam. She floundered her way through the test, barely understanding the questions.

When the bell rang, Chiaki handed in her exam booklet to Instructor Hondo-san, cursing her luck. No doubt, she’d failed badly.

“A moment, Chiaki,” Hondo-san said.

The teacher glanced through her answers, frowning. “Chiaki, you haven’t been focusing, lately,” he chided. “You seem distracted in class. Is everything alright?”

“Yes, sensei,” Chiaki replied, resenting the man’s prying.

Hondo-san gave her a look which clearly said, _I don’t believe you._ But he ventured nothing further.

Her cheeks burning, Chiaki stalked out into the corridor. All her friends were there.

“Gods, Chi,” Noriko drawled. “You barely wrote anything in your answer booklet. You flunked, eh?”

“Shut up,” Chiaki grumbled.

“You’re so not going to university,” declared Noriko. “I don’t know what you’re doing with your life, Chi, but if you’re not careful, you’re gonna wind up a major loser.”

The other girls flounced away, already laughing amongst themselves. Chiaki glared after them.

*****

The next day was Saturday, the night of Akio Iekami’s party. “Don’t forget, Mom, I’m going to the movies tonight,” Chiaki called down the stairs. “Then the gang and I are going out for karaoke later.”

“Hmmgh,” grunted Honoka, suspicious. She glared upstairs at her daughter. “You spend too much of your money, I think.”

Chiaki ignored her mother’s criticism. She hurried into her bedroom, then inspected her closet. It was time to decide what she’d wear to Alex Iekami’s party. Why hadn’t she put any planning into this earlier? She’d been so scatterbrained since returning from Tokyo. Without much thought, Chiaki quickly got dressed.

After carefully applying a near-perfect makeup job, Chiaki slipped into her overcoat, pleased with how it swaddled nearly all of her body. Then she selected her tiny purse, slipped her ring injector (fully loaded) inside, and then hurried downstairs. The train to Tokyo left in thirty minutes.

*****

It was quarter to nine. The sun had just set, and artificial electric light bathed Tokyo. Chiaki loved this time in the gorgeous city.

There was a small crowd of trendy young people outside 393 Heisei Dori, all smoking and chatting merrily. The front doors of the warehouse were closed. Chiaki slipped off her overcoat and grinned to herself as she casually joined a cluster of party-goers. The anticipation of a great celebration hung in the air.

“Hey there,” the teen assassin grinned. “Anyone else here for the first time?”

The others gaped at her, so Chiaki threw out her best smile. It was essential for her to make new friends right away, so when the doors opened, it would appear that she was a member of the gang.

“Hhhhhhhhholy cow,” one of the young men said, staring openly at Chiaki’s outfit. The teenage assassin barely acknowledged the compliment. She widened her grin, then make sure to lower her eyelids, just a little.

“How do you guys know Alex?” Chiaki asked, acting as though she’d known Iekami for years. “Oh, I’m Charlotte, by the way.”

*****

Half an hour later, the warehouse doors opened. A young Japanese man, thin and attractive, appeared from within the building, quickly unlocking the doors and pushing them outwards towards the street. Immediately, excitement among the partygoers shot into the stratosphere.

“Hey, y’all!” the young man exclaimed, speaking in a strong American accent. He grinned with excitement. “Who’s ready for a paaaaaaarty?”

The crowd cheered, then surged forward.

Chiaki had made fast friends with twentysomethings she’d greeted earlier. Now, hanging off the arm of one of those boys, she moved toward the warehouse doors.

The young man who’d opened the doors was standing there, greeting all of his guests. He had one of the squarest jaws Chiaki had ever seen on a Japanese man, and this made his handsome face quite striking. His haircut was short and neat, and Chiaki’s well-trained eye could tell that it had recently been trimmed by an expert stylist. The man’s eyes were dark green, and glinted with a rogue’s arrogance. Chiaki found herself admiring his flawless white teeth and lean physique. He wore nothing but black from head to toe, but his clothes fit his frame perfectly. His outfit was stylish and expensive; two words that meant _sexy_ in Japanese culture.

As the guests flowed into the warehouse, Chiaki found herself greeted by the host. “Well, howdy,” he smirked, his voice rich and deep. “I’m Alex. Alex Iekami.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Chiaki replied easily. “I’m Charlotte.”

Alex’s eyes widened. Then, with an ever broader grin, he took Chiaki’s hand, and kissed it gallantly.

*****

The ground floor of Alex’s warehouse had been converted into a massive dancefloor and party space, all elaborately-decorated. Chiaki was impressed. She’d frequented Tokyo’s chic nightclubs, and it was obvious that Alex had spent lavishly to provide himself with a private version. There was a large bar staffed by three bartenders, a stage, a private VIP lounge area, even a coat check girl. The DJ (and his three assistants) were operating from an elevated booth, and were already filling the air with noisy grunge music from America. The walls were decorated with framed posters of Hollywood blockbusters. There were even two for-hire bouncers, glowering at the crowd from the sidelines.

“You like it?” Alex asked Chiaki, taking her coat and passing it off to the coat check girl. “I had it modeled after _Nabu_.”

Luckily, Chiaki had heard of this place. “The club in Los Angeles?” she asked, surprised.

“Oh, you know it,” grinned Alex, pleased. “Yeah, I was there the night that Ricky Martin and Alicia Keys went. It was wild. I had to recreate it for myself here.”

 _Play it cool,_ Chiaki reminded herself. _You’ve intrigued him… now keep him interested._

“That’s awesome,” she said blandly. “But seriously, Alex, there are some New York clubs you have to visit.”

“You don’t say,” the host said, caught off-guard.

There was still a throng of people pressing to get in. Chiaki flashed her most sultry glance at Alex, then deliberately stalked away to the dancefloor. She could feel the young man’s eyes on her as she moved.

 _Perfect_ , the assassin crowed to herself. _Now I party away. Alex is hooked; he’ll seek me out._

Feeling confident, sexy, and liberated, Chiaki joined a groups of girls dancing. Making sure to shake her hips and shoulders, she joined them.

*****

The party was loud and constantly threatening to teeter out of control. People were laughing with abandon. Plum wine, sake, and beer flowed freely from the bar. And the DJ was good; he knew how to mix songs, when to blast the good dance numbers, and when to slow down when people needed a breather.

Chiaki almost forgot she was on assignment. The boys flocked about her, all eager for a dance. “You shake that butt here, girlie-O,” and “Yeah, momma, yeah!” and many other, cruder come-on lines were flung her way. Chiaki ignored them all.

She danced as if she hadn’t a care in the world. Other women danced with her, but Chiaki also felt free enough to strut on her own. Everything was wonderful.

In the back of her mind, the teenage assassin knew: she was there to kill Alex. But something told her that if she were to throw herself at the video game tycoon, he was likely to lose interest.

Indeed, Chiaki whirled about, and spotted Alex holding court at the bar. A dozen beautiful young women were thronged about him, giggling, flattering, fawning, all competing to snag his attention. But Alex was watching Chiaki.

The assassin smiled to herself, then turned back to the dancefloor.

*****

Alex was to be eliminated an hour after the party ended. Japanese law required all dance clubs to close at midnight, and so Chiaki was betting that Alex would usher his guests out shortly before then. No doubt Alex’s jealous neighbors would call the police if he allowed the noisy festivities to continue longer.

It was 11:40 PM. Enjoying all the male attention she was receiving, Chiaki strode to the bar, instantly capturing the bartenders’ attention. “A whiskey highball,” she purred, acting bored.

The bartenders scrambled to be the first to produce her drink. Chiaki accepted, without so much as a _arigatō_ or a glance. She held her small purse in one hand, her whiskey in the other.

Alex was at the other side of the bar, still watching her carefully, still ignoring his female suitors. The other ladies were growing desperate.

Knowing she was in full control, Chiaki strode up to Alex. She held his gaze, and took her time.

The other women fell silent as Chiaki approached. They glared at her with barely-concealed fury. Chiaki ignored them. Alex gazed at her, already in her spell.

 ** _Where was she getting this supreme confidence?_** When on a mission, Chiaki was used to playing shy and demure. She’d never been so arrogant before.

“It’s a good club,” the teenage assassin told Alex, but in an unimpressed tone. “Better than I expected.”

Alex grinned. “Better than the real _Nabu?_ ”

Chiaki tossed her hair. “Sure.”

She cast her eyes about, then locked a sultry gaze upon her host. “So… you also work and live here?”

“I do. My apartment is on the top floor.”

“I’ll look forward to seeing it,” Chiaki said. She gulped down her whiskey, set it on the bar, then deliberately strode past Alex and his would-be girlfriends. Without looking back, she headed toward the back of the club. She felt the eyes of everyone upon her.

Just beyond the bar and the corridor to the restrooms was a lone elevator door. One of Alex’s two bouncers stood guard, his meaty arms crossed over his broad chest. 

Chiaki stood before the man, fixing him with a determined stare. “Excuse me,” she murmured, smiling coyly.

The bouncer glanced at Alex, who nodded once. Then the big man pushed the lift button, stepped aside, and bowed slightly.

Chiaki smirked back, then stepped into the waiting elevator car. She pressed the PENTHOUSE button.

*****


	5. Sex and Meditation

The lift opened up into a large studio suite; an entire mansion sprawled across one enormous room. Under a modern chandelier, Chiaki could see the entertaining area, complete with multiple black couches, all facing an enormous television screen. Dozens of video game systems were displayed on the flanking shelves. Across the way, there was a dining section connected to an expansive modern kitchen, customized in marble and chrome steel. There was also a lounge area with a bar, a private gym, a meditation space, and even a small laundromat off in the back. Ancient Japanese sculpture was carefully placed throughout the suite.

And on an elevated platform in the back was Alex’s sleeping area. Chiaki could see a massive four poster bed in red satin sheets. Soft curtains hung from the bed’s tall frame; currently, they were open. Behind the bed was a large dressing area; Alex’s wardrobe looked enormous.

Lining the walls of the entire suite were tall bay windows, looking out across Tokyo in all directions. The great city glittered under the night sky.

Despite herself, Chiaki was impressed. She’d murdered rich targets before, of course, but none of them had the taste and sophistication of Alex.

 _Keep focused_ , the teenager reminded herself. _Complete the contract._

Chiaki slipped out of her high heels, but did not take a pair of guest slippers. Bare feet felt more appropriate for this job. Moving with determination, she crossed the suite’s interior, then climbed the steps up to Alex’s bedchamber. She still held her tiny purse in one hand.

Even as she moved, the young woman was dimly aware of her own hands moving to unzip her dress. She would strip naked, then await Alex in his bed. Then, after fucking him within an inch of his life, she would-

Chiaki glanced at one of Alex’s body mirrors, and stopped short.

She almost didn’t recognize the beautiful young woman staring back at her. In the mirror, Chiaki was wearing a tight little party dress, black, with a crimson flower pattern etched across the inky cloth. The dress had a low neckline and the tiniest of skirts, which barely descending below her hips! Chiaki could clearly see her whole torso, for the dress wrapped about her like a second skin. Her long legs were completely bare.

The young woman stared in disbelief. She turned about, startled to see that the back of her dress was almost non-existent. Her spine, shoulderblades, and lower back were all naked and clearly visible. And her rear end was hugged so tightly, one could practically see both individual buttocks.

Not only that, but Chiaki’s makeup was elaborate, much more detailed than usual. Her long hair was carefully pinned up, even crested with two small jasmine blossoms which matched the red of her dress.

The teenager was thunderstruck. Why… she’d planned to wear one of her regular club outfits! Hadn’t she put that on? And where did this barely-there dress come from?

No wonder the men had panted at her. No wonder the other women had thrown daggers with their eyes. It almost didn’t seem like the woman in the mirror could be Chiaki Takahashi.

But there was no denying the evidence before her. Tonight, Chiaki was a modern geisha, sexy and beautiful. **_How had she not noticed?_**

Why… now that Chiaki was jogging her memory, recollections bubbled up in her thoughts. On the day she’d journeyed up to Tokyo… the very day when she’d scoped out Alex’s warehouse… she’d remained in Alex’s neighborhood for only an hour. Then, without much awareness, she’d caught a taxi to _Toga Harajuku_ , her favorite department store. “I need your sexiest dress,” she’d commanded the stunned shopgirl. Then she’d purchased this dress on credit (which she didn’t have) and then trained home from Takaracho Station.

For crying out loud: She’d been carrying the _Toga Harajuku_ shopping bag with her on the train… yet it was like the compulsion to buy the dress had been shoved aside within her mind. She’d plumb forgotten it.

Now that Chiaki thought through the past few days and hours, it seemed like she had been sleepwalking, unaware of half the things she was doing. In hindsight, she almost didn’t recognize herself.

 _Or like someone was controlling me,_ Chiaki worried, growing afraid. _Maybe I should get the hell out of here?_

Even as the teenager mused, she realized that she had already slipped out of her dress. Even now, she was sliding off her tiny panties.

 _What the fuck?_ Chiaki thought in sheer alarm.

It was as if her body was making decisions on its own. Although the teenager tried to resist with all her might, she climbed into Alex’s bed, positioning her now-nude body so she lay lengthwise across the mattress. She selected a pose so that her hips were stacked, deliberately showing off her curves and exposed breasts.

Inwardly, the assassin struggled. _This isn’t right_ , she thought in horror. _Why can’t I control myself? Why-_

The elevator doors opened. Alex Iekami stepped into the suite.

The game developer instantly found Chiaki in his bed. “Well,” he said, smiling slightly, “glad to see you made yourself right at home.”

Chiaki’s mind went blank. “You’re late,” she said haughtily. “In the times of the shoguns, I could have had you beheaded for such arrogance.”

Once again, the teenager found herself playing the confident dominant. Her will crumbled, and she could not resist this strange power in her mind that compelled her to obey.

Alex moved into his bedroom area, taking his time. His green eyes appreciatively swept over Chiaki’s body. “Are you saying you’re a princess?” he smirked.

“Lowly peasant,” sniffed Chiaki.

Making a grand show of the gesture, the young woman removed her hairpins, carelessly tossing them to the floor. She flicked her long neck, and her black hair gracefully cascaded down onto the red sheets.

Still grinning, Alex mere stood at the foot of his bed, admiring the view. In the soft lighting, it was easy to appreciate his strong features, especially that chin, those eyes, and his perfect white teeth. His body, while still, seemed powerful and vibrant.

With deliberate movements, Chiaki slid one hand down her chin, then her neck. The hand traveled down to caress one breast, just a little, then descended her stomach. Two fingers extended and slipped between her legs.

 _Oh gods_ , Chiaki thought to herself. _I even shaved!_ She couldn’t remember shaving herself… but clearly, she had.

Her two fingers penetrated her vagina, just a little. Chiaki was surprised to find that she was wet.

“Now I know,” Alex rumbled, “that you **_have_** been to America. A Japanese woman would never be this bold. American women-“

“Shut up,” Chiaki commanded. “Get over her and fuck me.”

The video game developer smiled, already pulling off his black shirt. He tossed it aside with careless abandon. His naked chest was lean and well-muscled, and Chiaki was privately delighted to see each of his abdominal muscles were very well-defined.

“Now,” the teenage assassin demanded, “take off your-“

“Shhh…!” Alex cautioned, walking around to the side of the great bed. Soon, he stood before Chiaki’s feet.

The young man reached for a small remote control on the bedside table, quickly tapping one button. Immediately, the suite’s lights dimmed to almost darkness. Chiaki squinted in the near-twilight.

Then Alex’s gentle hands were on her feet, carefully pulling them apart. She could hear his breathing, deep but excited, as he raised her left foot upwards. And then…

Alex’s lips closed around Chiaki’s little toes.

The teenager gasped in surprise. Her toes were especially sensitive, and now waves of pleasure swept over her body. Her vagina, already wet, grew even more impatient.

“Mnnngh…!” Chiaki moaned.

Alex did not reply, at least not verbally. His tongue caressed Chiaki’s pedicure, performing as a pianist would. Chiaki felt her eyes close.

Then Alex’s tongue began to wander. The wet organ licked its way across the inside of Chiaki’s feet, over her ankle, and then headed north. The young man was climbing onto the bed, and now Chiaki could smell his cologne; distinctive and manly. She was trembling.

“Wait…” she whispered. “Wait…”

But she really didn’t want Alex to wait. As his tongue probed higher, crossing her knee, Chiaki reached for him. Her grateful hands found his head, and then his shoulders.

Alex licked higher, traveling up the inside of Chiaki’s nude thigh. He breathed through his nose, and now his inhales and exhales were erratic and excited. _He can smell me_ , thought Chiaki, both horrified and aroused. _Oh gods, I want him to-_

Then Alex struck. His lips appeared at Chiaki’s vagina, and he happily suckled her. The sensation forced Chiaki to cry out in delight, and she felt herself cum, just a little. How did Alex know she loved being eaten out?

Chiaki had received oral just twice before. Once, in her first year of secondary school, she’d crushed on Isao Ichibangase, a ruggedly handsome senior. The two of them stole into his parents’ house, where they practiced oral on one other. The experience had been more curious exploration than anything else. Isao had been rough and impatient, but he’d taught Chiaki that she loved a man’s lips on her vagina. Then, two years later while tracking a bounty, Chiaki had learned that her target loved to orally pleasure women. So Chiaki allowed the poor man to take her back to his hotel suite and taste her. He was good… but not good enough for Chiaki to spare his life. Two payoffs for that kill.

But Alex was a master. He licked and caressed with expert precision, carefully slurping on Chiaki and learning where her G-spot was by her automatic reactions. The young woman gasped and squirmed, unable to believe the ecstasy that her body was feeling.

Alex licked harder. Every one of Chiaki’s muscles tensed, and she felt her spine curve as her orgasm began to build. She breathed in desperate little yelps, kicking slightly as her legs rose in the air. She gripped Alex’s thick hair, hanging on.

Then, the young man tilted his head back, just a little. His chin jutted forward, nudging Chiaki just so. The changed angle meant that his tongue was now pressing into Chiaki with the **_tiniest_** bit of extra force. Just enough.

But it was as if a button had been pushed in the young woman’s loins. Chiaki sang out as her clit erupted and she came. She lost all control as the power of that orgasm seized her and washed over her grateful body.

For the first time, Chiaki realized that she had been babbling. “Oh oh oh oh oh oh **_oh oh_** **_ohhhhhhh!_** ” she wailed, now wriggling her feet with abandon. She’d never felt a climax like this.

Alex waited patiently, gently licking her, allowing her to ride the orgasm to its loving finish. Each jab of his tongue was like a sweet kiss on her body. Chiaki loved it.

Even she regained control over herself, the teenager whooped in delight. “God ** _DAMN!_** ” she bellowed happily, not certain if she wanted to laugh or cry.

Then, before Alex realized what was about to happen, Chiaki scrambled onto all fours. She grabbed the young man by his arm and yanked him onto the bed.

Thrilled, Alex twisted so that Chiaki could easily undo his trousers and pull them off his body. Within what felt a second, both young adults were fully nude.

Chiaki pounced. If Alex was alarmed or surprised, he hid it well. Chiaki pinned him onto his back, straddling him over his hips and then hungrily kissing at his mouth. She was activated and her passion was tiger-like. Alex’s erect penis poked at her, and she was delighted to feel his dribble against her skin.

The two kissed, often clinking their teeth together. Chiaki’s hair fell over Alex’s and she could tell he loved it. She wanted to slide him into her vagina… but first she wanted to boy to be as lust-crazed as she was. She kissed him harder, moving to flatten herself against him.

And then Alex’s hands were exploring her. He cupped her breasts, lovingly massaging them with care. But soon his fingers were sliding around her torso, then down her back to appreciate her buttocks. Chiaki sighed in triumph. Alex’s hands were moving faster and faster, which meant he was losing control, too.

“Oh, I have to fuck you,” the boy suddenly grunted. “I so have to.”

The sound of his voice startled Chiaki, but only momentarily. She had driven him right to the edge of passion’s cliff, and now he was admitting her couldn’t resist her any longer. She wanted to comply.

With the grace of a ballerina, Chiaki rose and turned about. Now she was straddling Alex, but facing away from him. He stared at her nude rear, then gripped her. Carefully, she pushed his cock toward her, then slipped it into her shining vagina. He slid right in.

Both Chiaki and Alex exhaled in pure pleasure.

And then, they were mindlessly fucking. A wordless communication had sprouted up between the lovers, and each intimately understood what the other wanted. Chiaki rose and fell, pumping her knees, letting Alex enter her again and again and again. They were doing what Americans called the “reverse cowgirl” position, and Chiaki sensed that this excited Alex all the more. Even now, she knew he was watching her buttocks bounce off his abs, over and over and over again. She fucked him harder.

“Oh!” gasped Alex, and his entire body rocked with a spasm. He was cumming. Chiaki felt a warmth gush into her vagina, and she smiled.

Then, she was cumming, too. The teenager laughed, throwing her head about in her pleasure. Her long hair whipped about her, like a flag in a storm.

*****

It was later. Chiaki lay in Alex’s strong arms, her nude body nestled up against his. They lay together on what remained of the bed, after fucking one another three times in a row. The sweaty bedsheets lay twisted and crumpled beneath them.

Chiaki stared up at the high ceilings, listening to Alex snore. The boy was conked out, limp from sublime exhaustion. The beautiful teenager could smell his cologne and the natural scent of his body. She liked both.

The bedside clock said **_1:03_**. It was time.

Rising carefully, Chiaki carefully freed herself from the young man’s sleepy grasp, then escaped from the bed before Alex could recapture her with another hug. Her dress and panties were somewhere on the floor, but Chiaki couldn’t see them. Oh well.

She padded out of the bedroom chamber, ignoring her own nudity, and thinking through the immediate next steps. _I slit Alex’s throat,_ she reminded herself, _then gather up my clothes. Then I…_

Wait a minute. **_Slit Alex’s throat?_**

Chiaki almost reeled. She killed with poison, not knives! Stabbing a victim took a strong stomach, one that was beyond Chiaki’s already-ironlike constitution. Besides, the splattered blood would leave physical evidence all over her, wouldn’t it?

 _This isn’t like me,_ Chiaki thought in alarm. _What the fuck am I thinking? What the…_

The teenager gasped aloud. She realized that she was now standing over Alex, a long carving knife in her hand.

 ** _What the fuck?!?_** she thought in horror.

As she’d been sifting through her confused thoughts, her body had – on its own – walked into the kitchen, selected a knife, and returned to stab Alex. Chiaki had been completely unaware. Another second later, and the deed would have been done.

In fact, even now, Chiaki realized that her hand **_still_** wanted to slash Alex in the face. It was taking all of her will to stay the blade.

**_Something was seriously fucking wrong._ **

With every last ounce of mental strength she had, Chiaki backed away. Weirdly, some part of her still longed to stab Alex. Concentrating furiously, the young woman forced herself to set the knife down on the bedside table. Then, she exited the sleeping chamber.

 _My mind is not my own,_ she thought in disbelief. She was on the verge of panicking. _What the fuck happened to me???_

There was only one thing to do.

It had been five long years since Chiaki had been marched to Taji-san’s meditation class. But she thought she still remembered the basics. So now, she walked to Alex’s meditation space, selected a mat on the floor, and then forced herself to sit in the lotus position.

 _Remember how you did this last time,_ the teenager coaxed herself. _Clear your mind. What would old Taji-san say? Focus only on the now…_

It felt incredibly weird, sitting completely naked in her target’s apartment, trying to quiet her mind. And yet, Chiaki quickly felt a soothing calmness descend over her. She knew what she needed. She knew how to get there.

*****

As her consciousness expanded, Chiaki’s body seemed to fade away. She allowed her instincts guide her. Strangely, there were already a set of thoughts waiting for her inside the Zen trance.

 ** _You will go to Alex Iekami’s party_** , the thoughts said. **_But before you will go, you will buy an incredibly sexy dress. You will wear this dress to the party, and you will make yourself sexy and beautiful._**

There was a stern authority in these words. Even as Chiaki listened to them, she felt a strong desire to obey them. The words controlled her. She listened on…

 ** _Once at the party,_** continued the powerful thoughts, **_you will feel incredibly confident. You will feel desired, but in control. You will flirt with Alex Iekami, but then let him come to you._**

**_And then, when the party is nearly over, you will invite yourself back into Alex’s home apartment. You will strip completely naked, and you will then fuck him with abandon. You will fuck him many times. Then you will allow him to think you have fallen asleep. He will want to keep you in his bed._ **

**_But once he is deeply asleep, you will go to his kitchen. You will take his sharpest knife. You will slit his throat open, then stab him three times in the heart. You will stay and watch him die._ **

**_Then, when he is gone, you will call the police and report a murder. You will tell them who you are and where you are. Then, once they are on their way, you will take the same knife and plunge it into your own chest. You will stab yourself three times. You will never cry out for help. You will be happy to die, knowing you have obeyed all of my instructions._ **

With a shock, Chiaki almost popped out of her trance. She was to… kill herself?

There was no doubt. The commands in her mind were firm and they demanded mindless obedience. Even now, Chiaki could feel the powerful urge to rise and carry them out.

 _How the fuck did this happen?_ the teenage assassin thought angrily.

Following Taji-san’s teachings, she replayed the entire string of commands once more. But this time, she concentrated even more intently. The controlling thoughts, she realized, were not in her own voice. They were another’s voice, a man’s voice! An unfamiliar man…

Chiaki strained harder to bring this stranger into focus.

And then, as if a fog lifted, Chiaki could clearly see a handsome thirty-something man, bowing before her and murmuring, “ _Ah, forgive me, I am Sora, Sora Hamamoto. Alex and I were in America together._ ”

From there, a new memory emerged. Chiaki saw herself lured to Sora’s van. She was kidnapped, then tied into that awful chair. She remembered how the ropes cut into her wrists and ankles. Her mind could clearly recall Sora’s noxious injection, and then an artificial, sickeningly-sweet happiness that descended over her. She remembered being hypnotized. She remembered Sora filling her mind with stern commands.

She remembered everything.

*****

When the time was right, Chiaki slowly opened her eyes. She was still sitting lotus-style in Alex’s meditation space. Her back was stiff, and her legs somewhat cramped. She’d forgotten that meditation would do that. Her nude skin was cold, and she reflexively shivered.

How much time had passed? It was impossible to say; Alex’s apartment was still dark. Through the bay windows, Chiaki could see Tokyo, but many of the city’s lights had gone dark. It was the middle of the night.

“Any revelations?” a cold voice said behind her.

Startled, Chiaki twisted about at the waist. Sitting on a small chair, directly behind her, was Alex. He wore a simple red robe, his legs crossed at the knee. His expression was unreadable. And in his left hand was the long carving knife that Chiaki had set down upon the bedside table. He held the blade firmly, using an experienced fighter’s grip.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait a minute,” Chiaki said, alarmed. She started to rise to her feet.

“Don’t move, Charlotte,” warned Alex, pointing with the knife. “I’m **_soooo_** not in the mood for surprises.”

Chiaki froze. “No surprises,” she agreed, raising her thin hands. “Listen, I-“

“I’ll ask the questions,” warned Alex. He lowered the knife, but still held it firmly. “Face me directly, but stay seated.”

Scooching about on her butt, Chiaki obeyed. Suddenly, she was painfully aware of her complete nudity.

Alex held his head high. “You were going to gut me, weren’t you? That’s not your style, _Gōsutohando._ ”

Despite herself, Chiaki’s jaw dropped open.

“Oh, I know who you are,” Alex said evenly.

The teen’s thoughts raced at lightspeed. If Alex was a fellow hitman, as Sora suspected, then perhaps Chiaki could appeal to him as a fellow professional?

Faking confidence, Chiaki merely nodded once. “Well met, _Shub_ _ō-Sha._ ”

Alex scowled. “Oh, spare me all that assassins’ ‘ _code of honor_ ’ bullshit.” His eyes swept down over Chiaki’s exposed body. “So… before a kill, you always meditate in the nude for several hours? You must accept some very unusual contracts.”

 _Is he mocking me?_ Chiaki wondered. No way to know.

“I’m sorting through some issues,” she replied tartly. “If I’d wanted you dead, Alex, you’d be dead hours ago.”

“Maybe,” Alex replied guardedly.

The two assassins regarded one another with cool interest.

Chiaki pursed her lips. “So what are you to do with me?”

“Honestly?” the young man said. “I’m debating the best way to kill you. I’ve never rubbed out someone in my home, and once you’re gone, I have to dispose of your body.” He shrugged. “Never had to do that before. Any tips?”

However unnerved she felt, the teenager was careful to maintain her cool expression. “You have a contract out on you, _Shub_ _ō_ ,” she warned. “I’m your only lead to your killers.”

“Oh, I know all about Kakusareta Yujin, the man who offered you my contract over Asashin.Santai,” Alex snorted. “Its bad business to reveal your employer, _Gōsutohando._ ”

 _Shit, he knows everything!_ Chiaki thought with a pang in her stomach.

Still, there was an opportunity here. “Oh, I wasn’t talking about Yujin,” the teenager countered.

Alex’s stern expression melted. “Then… wait, what?”

Watching him carefully, Chiaki said, “ _Burakkumanba_ wants you dead.”

A hundred different emotions rippled across Alex’s face. “You also accepted a contract from _Burakku_ on me?” he asked angrily.

“No, no,” Chiaki said quickly. She leaned forward. “You watch the Asashin.Santai newsgroup, _Shub_ _ō_. Do you know how _Burakkumanba_ operates?”

Alex looked suspicious. “No-one does,” he said stupidly. “He’s the ‘Ghost Killer.’”

“Well, I had the misfortune to meet ‘ _him_ ’,” glowered Chiaki. “’ _He_ ’ is actually a team of two men. Really evil guys. _Burakkumanba_ is so successful because they identify a civilian who regularly gets close to their target. They kidnap the civilian, then hypnotize and brainwash them. Then the civilian wipes out the target, and then themselves, without ever knowing they are under the control of someone else.”

“That’s… fucking ridiculous,” Alex pronounced. But he looked uncertain.

“Those guys found me, scoping out your place,” Chiaki went on. “The assholes thought I was a regular teenager, and they gave me their mind-warp treatment.” She shuddered. “Though they didn’t know they picked a meditation student for their sick mission.”

“Or pro assassin,” added Alex.

Chiaki shrugged. “Yeah.”

The young man reclined in his chair, the wheels turning in his head. “Why should I believe you?” he demanded.

 _Fuck,_ Chiaki thought.

Keeping her cool, she played her last card. “Because, Alex Iekami,” she said, “if I’d wanted to kill you under my own will, you’d be dead already. And I’d never use a knife.” Her voice curdled with disgust. “Knives are messy. And I can’t ride the subway home with blood on my dress.”

Alex rubbed his jaw, then nodded in agreement. “You’d use your poison ring,” he acknowledged. “Just like with Saburo Goromaru.”

Chiaki shrugged modestly.

Absently twirling the knife, Alex studied Chiaki’s face. “How did they drug you?” he demanded.

“Injection. Sodium… pentasomthing. They shot me up with a big needle.”

“Where?” Alex said, leaning forward.

Chiaki pointed to her left forearm. The red mark and bruise left by Sora’s syringe were still visible.

Moving like a cat, Alex sprang forward, still holding the knife carefully. He gently seized Chiaki’s arm, then inspected the mark. “Looks painful,” he observed.

“It hurt like a bitch,” Chiaki admitted. “Those guys don’t know how to use a needle.”

A look of satisfaction spread over Alex’s face. He rose to his feet, no longer gripping the knife tightly.

“I believe you,” he said easily to Chiaki. “Com’on, I want to show you something.”

*****


	6. Lonely

Within a few minutes, Chiaki was wearing a robe identical to Alex’s. The silk garment was far too large, and it billowed about her slender frame. She felt like a flagpole. But the robe covered her far more than her slinky party dress had.

In the back of Alex’s massive suite was a small door. At first glance, Chiaki had assumed this was a broom cupboard. But Alex approached and swiped his fingerprint over a small black sensor over the door. There was a click. The door was unlocked.

With a coy expression, Alex pushed the door open, then gestured for Chiaki to follow him.

On the other side of the doorway there was a small, cozy room. A customized desk with an expansive computer keyboard and an enormous television monitor dominated the space. Along the main screen, there was also a bank of smaller screens, mounted in a neat stack. A plush office chair on wheels waited before the keyboard. Alex hopped in, started flipping switches, and the constellation of monitors lit up.

Impressed, Chiaki lowered herself into a second chair. She didn’t know much about computers… but Alex had quite a setup.

“I’m gonna dial into the Internet,” the young man said. The phone activated, then emitted a string of soft beeps.

“Alllllright…” Alex said, tapping on the keyboard. The side monitors began displaying live, black-and-white images of the street outside the warehouse. It was still the middle of the night, and there was little foot traffic on the sidewalks. Only a handful of cars rolled by.

Chiaki blinked in surprise. “You have your neighborhood under surveillance?” she asked.

Alex chuckled. “Just this building. In our line of work, it helps to keep an eye on your surroundings. You see anything familiar?”

“Like …what?”

“If I’m right,” Alex mused, “then those two _Burakkumanba_ guys will be watching, I think. That’s what I would do, if I used their methods. Gotta confirm the kill.”

Chiaki studied the young man. Now, Alex seemed relaxed and confident. He grinned as he clacked away on the keyboard. The boyish charm he’d worn at the party was back.

“Doesn’t look like there’s anyone out there,” Alex observed. “No-one obviously hanging about, watching my building. Hmm.”

“No?” Chiaki said, peering at the monitors. “What are you looking for?”

“I dunno,” admitted Alex. “A vehicle parked across the street for no reason, a man smoking a cigarette and watching the warehouse’s main entrance… something like that.”

Chiaki scanned all the surveillance monitors. The street outside was largely empty.

“Nothing yet,” Alex said confidently. “But _Burakkumanba_ will drop by. You mark my words.”

He said that last bit casually, but Chiaki felt slapped across the face. She’d only ever heard one other person use that corny expression.

The teenager almost pointed a finger in accusation. “ ** _You’re Kakusareta Yujin!_** ” she blurted out in disbelief.

Alex winced, then twisted about in his chair to face her.

“You!” Chiaki exclaimed, stabbing a finger at her host. “You are, right? You’re both _Shubō-Sha_ **_AND_** Kakusareta Yujin! Aren’t you?”

Almost sighing, Alex nodded. “I actually have, like, ten identities on the Asashin.Santai newsgroup. It makes tracking me impossible. I hope,” he added.

“The fuck, dude?” cried Chiaki. “Fucking Kakusareta Yujin **_hired_** me to whack Alex Iekami! Why would you put out a contract **_on yourself?!?_** ”

Alex opened his mouth, then looked pained.

“You’re a psychopath,” Chiaki guessed. With alarm, it now occurred to her that there was nothing in this little room that she could use as a weapon. If Alex attacked her…

“I’m not a psycho!” protested Alex. “Its just that…” He made a helpless gesture.

“ ** _What?_** ”

“Look,” the young man said, deflating, “I don’t know about you, but I’ve been doing the contract killing thing for five years now. I made so much money as _Shubō-Sha_ , that I had to invent this ‘Hot Video Game Developer’ persona as an alias. I throw the parties and splash around money just to maintain a smokescreen.

“But the truth is… I’m with people all the time, and I’m so fucking lonely. Contract killing is a great living; I love it. But you don’t realize when you start down that life… that there will be no-one to share it with. You can’t vent to someone if you’ve had a bad day, or cry with someone if you’re scared. And you know that glorious feeling you get when you take out the baddest motherfucker in one glorious kill? There’s no-one with whom to share that triumph.”

Alex let out a long sigh. “An assassin is always alone.”

He locked his eyes on Chiaki’s.

“And I decided I was tired of being alone,” he finished.

“So you hired me to kill you…” said Chiaki, “…so you could meet me?”

Alex grinned. “I heard rumors about this girl assassin who killed with poison,” he related. “Good things, mostly. _Gōsutohando_ impressed all the right people. And, I don’t know, the more I heard about you, the more I had this feeling that you might be someone cool to know.”

Chiaki listened intently.

“So I subcontracted the job on Saburo Goromaru. I guessed he was the kind of work that would attract you. And when you took the contact, I made sure I was there for the actual hit.”

“You were there? In the restaurant?” Chiaki said in surprise.

Alex nodded. “Yeah, Goromaru was easy to tail. I showed up in that shithole restaurant he liked, and I was reading manga at a side table while you made the kill. Very nice approach work, by the way. I wasn’t sure you’d completed the mission until he doubled over onto the floor.”

“You were following me,” accused Chiaki.

“I had to see you, in person,” Alex protested. “And you were so cool, so beautiful, and Goromaru was such a great kill. After that night, I knew: I had to meet you.”

“So you posed as Yujin and offered me a contract on yourself,” Chiaki finished. “You made it so I had to come to your party, but wait until the party was over to strike.”

“Yeah,” Alex admitted. “The plan was to get to know you during the party, then reveal myself after the guests left. But you totally surprised me. You seduced me. Once I saw you on my bed, naked, well…” He grinned again. “I never thought you’d fuck me so hard that I’d pass out.”

“Me neither,” Chiaki agreed. She paused, then shook her head. “Thank God one of us didn’t kill the other.”

Her bewildered eyes wandered back up to the surveillance monitors, and then she stiffened.

Across the street, a white van with the Omnitron Systems logo on the side was parking. The vehicle settled against the curb, then went dark.

“Well now….!” Chiaki said grimly.

*****

Sora Hamamoto grunted to himself, then stabbed out his cigarette in the van’s ashtray. Beside him, Eiji slumped in the passenger seat. The heavyset man’s breathing grew slower and deeper.

“Hey,” snapped Sora, and poked his partner in the ribs. “Stay awake.”

Eiji jumped, then audibly yawned. “Awww, c’mon, man. Its four AM. How long do we gotta wait here?”

Ignoring the other man’s question, Sora glanced at his watch. “Something’s wrong,” he growled. “The hypnotized little twat should have called the police by now.”

“Or she’d dead,” grumbled Eiji. “The dumb broad probably stabbed herself and **_then_** went to call the police.”

“If she fucked up, _Shub_ _ō-Sha_ will be on alert,” Sora countered. “Then we’ll never get to him.”

“You worry too much,” Eiji scowled, folding his arms across his chest. He slunk back into his seat, obviously about to go back to sleep.

“Hey,” said Sora, angry. “Hey!” He slapped Eiji in the ribs, hard.

“Fuck, man!”

“I’m out of cigarettes,” Sora snarled. “Go to that snack shop, get me more?”

Eiji almost spat, “What, am I your slave?”

“You owe me money, fool. Just do it. Get yourself something chocolate, too.”

The heavier man grumbled, but opened his door and slipped outside. He slammed the van’s door a little too hard.

Sora glared after his partner. They’d been killing as _Burakkumanba_ for, what, almost fifteen years now? Eiji had always been dead weight in their collaboration. Honestly, it was Sora who did the target research, who lured in their victims, and who knew how to do the brainwashing technique. Plus, Sora did all the online work of finding and securing contracts. What did Eiji do? He cooked the noodles and helped carry bodies, when necessary. He was dumb muscle.

And lately, Eiji had been argumentative. Lazy. He wanted to cut corners, and was starting to ask too many questions about the money. Sora scratched his chin, coming to a decision.

Once _Shub_ _ō-Sha_ was confirmed dead, it was time to change partners. Eiji could be brainwashed to commit suicide. Throw himself off the Tsukiji ō Bridge, perhaps. Then Sora could recruit another helper. Someone younger, cheaper, eager to learn. Perhaps that mysterious _Gōsutohando_. The Asashin.Santai gossip circuit seemed to think that _Gōsuto_ , whoever he was, was actually a teenager. Perhaps the kid could be lured to become the new half of _Burakkumanba_? That was an interesting thought.

Sora rechecked his watch. Eiji, typically, had taken over ten minutes to buy cigarettes and candy. No doubt the fat clod had stopped to talk with the opinioned shopkeeper.

Wait, there he was. Through the sideview mirror, Sora could see Eiji exit the snack shop, approaching the van. He was carrying a small paper bag.

Sora frowned. Eiji was taking his time, looking distracted. He approached the van’s driverside window, and Sora quickly rolled down his window.

“What’re you doing?” Sora grumbled. “Get back in here, dude.”

Eiji was sweating like crazy, and his breathing was uneven. “Hey…” he huffed, “…I…”

And then, the heavier man collapsed onto the pavement.

Alarmed, Sora leapt out of the van without thinking. Eiji lay on the street, gazing into the sky with a terrified look on his face. His hands and legs were twitching.

“Oh my God, mister!” a young man’s voice cried out. “Are you okay?”

As Sora stared, the stranger rushed up, kneeling over Eiji. “Omigod, does he have a heart condition?” the man yelled. “Mister, you have a cellular? Mister? Call an ambulance!”

Fumbling for his jacket breast pocket, Sora pulled out his phone. Eiji’s face was turning ashen. It was terrifying.

“Hurry!” the young man shouted at Sora.

Everything was happening so fast. Sora dialed his phone almost without thinking. Why-

He felt a jabbing sensation between his two shoulderblades; quick, biting, brief. Sora frowned. Had he been stung by a wasp? He’d once been stuck by a hornet, long ago. Luckily, the insect hadn’t gotten him too badly, but the pain-

Wait. Sora whirled around. Horror swept over him.

Standing behind him was Chiaki Takahashi, dressed in ill-fitting men’s clothes, pulled tightly around her lean but svelte body. The teenager’s long black hair had been pulled up and tucked into an American baseball cap, making her appear to be a boy. She was glaring at Sora with a look of grim hatred on her pretty face.

“Got him,” the teen said to the young man kneeling beside Eiji. “Easy.”

Sora glanced down at the teenager’s outstretched hand. She wore a ring with a simple injection needle extended. The needle shown with dark red blood.

The young man jumped to his feet. Now Sora recognized him: Alex Iekami.

“Later, dude,” Alex said causally. He and Chiaki rushed across the street, never once looking back.

Sora stared after them, cursing the realization of how easily he’d just been played. Then the pain struck his chest. He collapsed into the street. Eiji was already dead.

****


	7. Epilogue

**_One Year Later…_ **

“ _Have you sent in the tuition bill? There is a very stiff late fee, you know!_ ”

Chiaki sighed. Her mother sounded more high-strung than usual.

“Mom,” she frowned, switching her cellular phone to her other ear, “I told you: I haven’t gotten the bill in the mail yet.”

“ _Are you sure? It should have arrived. Maybe you should check your mailbox again._ ”

“Mom!” Chiaki cried in exasperation. “I’m nineteen! Out on my own! I know what I’m doing.”

As she talked, the beautiful teenager was removing her outside shoes before she stepped into Alex’s apartment suite. She smiled to herself when she spotted the new pair of pink Hello Kitty slippers waiting for her, just inside the suite. Alex had been thinking of her.

Her mother sighed, signaling resigned defeat. “ _I know, I know, now you have a Tokyo job working for that fancy video game developer,_ ” she grumbled. “ _But at least you’re attending university._ ” Her voice brightened. “ _Any idea what major?_ ”

“Actually, I was thinking about veterinary studies,” Chiaki admitted.

“ _Oh, yes! Why, your father would be proud._ ”

“Gotta go, Mom,” Chiaki said, popping her feet into the new slippers. They were fluffy and warm inside. She made her good-byes, then clicked the phone off.

The apartment suite had undergone quite a few changes since Chiaki had moved in. The bedroom platform now had a screen around it, for Chiaki and Alex’s bedroom activities were not for Tokyo to see. The dressing and closet areas were hopelessly overstuffed, and Alex was only beginning to come around and concede that they would need to expand to build Chiaki a closet of her own. Meanwhile, the meditation area had been reorganized to Chiaki’s liking. She meditated at least once a day now.

The teenager skipped to the back of the suite and swiped her finger on the door sensor. The door to the computer room popped open.

Alex was in the command chair, studying the monitors.

“Hey, baby,” Chiaki grinned. She plopped down into Alex’s lap, wrapped her arms about his neck, and kissed him. The kiss was deep and warm.

“Charlotte!” crowed her boyfriend, deliberately using the affectionate nickname. “You liked the new slippers, eh? You always go for that little girlie crap.”

“Shut up, jerk,” Chiaki laughed, playfully slapping him on the arm. She craned her neck about, to look up at the monitor. “Anything good on the boards?”

“Mmm, I think so,” replied Alex, tapping a few keys. “Check it out…”

**_KOJI NAKAMURA. 24 yrs/92 kg/1.7 m. POSTED: 28-01-2002. CLIENT REQUESTS KOS, PROOF REQUIRED. TARGET DANGEROUS. 50000000 y. CONTACT: IKATTEIRU_BOSU._ **

“Hey!” Chiaki exclaimed. “I know this guy. Indo was posting a contract on him last year, just before I met you.”

“Lucky for me you accepted Kakusareta Yujin’s contract instead,” said Alex. “So why didn’t you go after this Koji Nakamura guy? He looks harmless enough. The bounty’s good, you mark my words.”

“This guy’s a Yakuza,” Chiaki replied dryly.

“Ex-Yakuza,” countered Alex. “I know Ikatteiru Bosu, the guy who posted this. **_He’s_** Yakuza, a big-time Yakuza contract man. The Yakuza is probably pissed at Koji Nakamura for ripping them off. They’ll be happy to pay his bounty.”

“Really?” said Chiaki, impressed.

“C’mon, Charlotte, we can drill this guy,” Alex said playfully, nudging Chiaki with his chin. “I can see it now: you’ll be the sexy stripper lure, I’ll be the waiter who slips ricin into Nakamura’s beer.”

Chiaki laughed in mock outrage. “ ** _You_** be the stripper!”

“I was thinking…” Alex murmured, pulling Chiaki closer. “With that fifty million yen bounty, we could buy us two plane tickets to America.” He kissed her softly. “I’d love to show you Las Vegas.”

“What’s Las Vegas?”

“You’ll love it,” Alex promised Charlotte. Then he kissed her again.

*****


End file.
